


A Plentiful Bounty

by PorcelaintoSteel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelaintoSteel/pseuds/PorcelaintoSteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is spirited away from the clutches of her captors. But is she trading one danger for another? And at what lengths will her enemies use to bring her back? AU that takes place in 1900s Southwest America/Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi SanSan fic! It is inspired by Django Unchained and Red Dead Redemption. All characters are owned by my liege George R.R. Martin. Some lines are taken or slightly paraphrased from the show or books.
> 
> I’m determined to update weekly. I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback, criticism and even ideas are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> \- Emily

Sansa

She sat back in her chaise, enjoying the silence. Any moment of solitude she could find was treasured. 

In the dim candle light she was able to make out the silhouette of her wedding gown. It was hanging up to prevent any wrinkles; no expense had been spared for the gown. All the best silks, laces and beads had been shipped in along with one of the best designers and seamstresses. No matter how beautiful the dress, how picturesque it had turned out; the feeling it invoked made her queasy. 

These weren’t the expected wedding jitters any maiden felt at the unknown. This intense nausea was brought on because she knew exactly what was to come. The kind of monster she was to marry. She already knew how her life was to be mapped out. All that this marriage meant was a stamp on the certificate of her prolonged torture. 

She sighed as she got up to run her fingers across the bodice. Sansa remembered a time when the prospect of marrying Joffrey Baratheon made her heart stretch with joy. The first time she had laid eyes on the golden haired heir to the Baratheon Railway fortune was at Winterfell Manor. Almost 1,000 miles away from her current prison, San Antonio, Texas. The heat grows so unbearable she often feels she is in hell. She'd give anything to lie down in the fresh snows of Boulder, Colorado and just breathe in the bitter cold air.

Sansa never realized how sheltered she had been in Winterfell. She saw everything and everyone at face value. She was enamored by Mrs.Baratheon's lavish gowns and abundant jewelry. The day her family had allowed the Baratheon/Lannister clan to roll through their wrought iron gates had unknowingly been their greatest mistake.

Everyone knew why Robert Baratheon had traveled so far north. They read the newspapers. He was hoping to expand the railway further west, but he needed one thing. Stark Steel. Her father had been wary from the start, knowing what Robert intended to propose. They had been childhood friends; her father was always a loyal friend. And so when Robert suggested merging companies he wasn't in the least bit surprised. The surprise came when Robert also proposed an engagement between Sansa and Joffrey.

If it hadn't been for her begging and pleading to allow such an arrangement, her family may still be whole today. 

Sansa was snapped out of her reverie when she heard a clamor coming from the stables. She turned to her window and saw the stable roof was engulfed in a blanket of orange flames. She gasped when she saw one of Joffrey’s prized stallions trample a ranch hand, instantly knocking the man unconscious.  
Her bedroom door flew open, making her jump 20 feet in the air.  
“Miss Sansa you must get out of here!” One of the house staff screamed.

“What is going on Shae?”

“Some outlaws are raiding the manor,” Shae answered while throwing some of Sansa’s possessions in a burlap bag.

“What about all the guards?” The Baratheon Ranch had an array of guards positioned about the whole property.

“Dead. The others are still away on business with Joffrey. It seems there were snipers hidden on the outcrops.” The ranch was a large plot of land, in a canyon basically, surrounded by enormous raised rocky crags.

“Why am I leaving? Where will I go?” Sansa breathed in a mild state of panic.

Shae grabbed her by her shoulders and shook.

“You can’t stay here. They will kill you. But not before they rape you bloody. You think being an heiress will save you? A cunt is a cunt. If anything it makes you an even sweeter prize.”

Sansa cringed at her harsh language, but Shae was never one for propriety.

“There is a car out back. It is ready to take you out of here. But you must make haste!”

Sansa nodded. She started rushing around, gathering the basic essentials. Some of her more simple gowns, her hairbrush, a few under garments and a sturdy pair of riding boots. She paused at her bed side table. There laid a memento of better times. A doll her father gave her, before he was murdered. She hurriedly stuffed it in her bag.

She and Shae were out the door in the next instant. Sansa never even glancing back at the wedding dress.

Shae had Sansa’s bag in one arm while the other was dragging Sansa along through the long and narrow hallways. She had never been through the servant’s quarters. She was struck with guilt and sadness at the prospect of abandoning Shae. She was her one true friend in this pit of vipers.

The screams of the remaining dueling guards echoed off the walls of the mansion. The sound of exchanged gunfire rippled like a stone thrown in a still body of water. Though the sun had long since set, the house was alight with the glow of the titian colored flames.

They were almost at the servant’s exit when one of the outlaws jumped out in front of their path, knocking the bag out of Shae’s hand. This man was covered in dirt and soot, red welts spotted his face. His leather vest was singed and looked three sizes too large. He made to grab Sansa, she registered the murderous and lust filled look in his eyes. One Joffrey often wore. Before a scream even left her mouth she saw a flash of silver as Shae plunged a dagger in the man’s throat. A sickening gurgle erupted from him as his body hit the floor with a crash. Shae searched his body and pulled a revolver out of a worn holster.

Shae collected the bag again then they were out the door. The fighting must have been concentrated near the north end of the manor, because there was nothing out back besides the vehicle taking her to salvation.

Sansa noticed it was Tyrion Lannister’s model T; he was Joffrey’s least favorite uncle. Most likely because Tyrion was actually a decent person.

Shae was ushering her to the back seat. Throwing the bag in as well.

“What about you, you must leave too!” Sansa said tearfully.

“There is someone I need to see. I’ll be fine,” Shae lifted up her skirts to show a gun strapped to her ankle.

A man swiftly materialized from around the corner. She threw her body to the bottom of the cab. She heard Shae turn to the man and start talking. Sansa popped up to her embarrassment when she recognized the man as Bronn; Tyrion’s personal body guard.

Shae had finished instructing Bronn and turned to Sansa one last time.

“You will be safe with Bronn. Here take this,” Shae handed her the revolver she took off the dead outlaw.

Sansa held the revolver like it was a scorpion. She placed it next to her softly.

Her only friend was dashing away. Though she was in a life or death situation she couldn’t forget her manners.

“Shae!”

Shae skidded to a stop and twisted towards Sansa.

“I want to thank you. You’re the only person I ever trusted here. One day I will repay you, I swear it.”

Shae gave her a sad smile.

“Don’t trust anybody. Life is safer that way.” And with that she was gone.

Bronn slid into the driver’s side.

“Okay Miss Stark, we’re off. You might want to rest; it is going to be a long ride.”

Sansa had a million and one questions but she felt sleep tugging at the edges of her eyes. There would be time for all that when she woke. After all, she was free now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter! Thank you for the comments, follows and favorites on any of my stories! It really motivates me! :) 
> 
> I just want to mention I have aged Sansa up a bit to fit the more modern times in the early 1900s. Sandor is about the same (supposed) age as in the books 27-28.

Sandor: Three Weeks Later  
  
Sandor groaned as the first rays of the morning sun came streaming through the window. It felt like an anvil had been dropped on his head and someone was tugging on his eyeballs. He drank WAY too much last night. But he had been celebrating his latest bounty. Truthfully the bastard hadn’t been a terribly difficult capture, the outlaw had actually been relatively easy to find. Guess he didn’t know a fire was a dead giveaway.

He hesitantly dragged himself out of bed. Going straight to the bowl of tepid water on the night stand to splash the sleep and hangover out of his eyes. This damn Texas heat was torture. And it so fucking dry. Though he had been born and raised in Texas, Sandor much rather preferred the parts of the country that experienced seasons.

After sponging the layer of desert dust off his body he pulled on a clean shirt and pair of breeches. He was currently staying at a ranch on the outskirts of Eagle Pass, Texas. The ranch owner was a decent woman. She didn’t flinch at the scarred ruin that marred the one side of his face. She didn’t even question how he had made his money. Bonnie was a tough broad, not afraid to get her hands dirty, which was refreshing. In exchange for room and board he would do random tasks around the ranch. Anything from brushing the horses down or shooting the wild coyote terrorizing the livestock.

Today Bonnie needed Sandor to run into town and pick up medicine for one of the other sick ranch hands. He figured while he was there he could check to see if any new bounty posters had been posted.

Sandor made his way out to the stables to saddle and tackle Stranger, his jet black quarter horse. Stranger was the only piece of Sandor’s past life he still had. ‘ _Well Stranger and the burns_ ,’ he thought darkly.

He swung up into the saddle after he made sure all three of pistols were in there holsters. Sandor knew from experience that you can never be too prepared; as danger lurked around every corner in these parts.

The ride to the main town of Eagle Pass was uneventful. He passed a few others going into town, no one ever made eye contact with him though. If they were fool enough to look at him they usually always ended up picking up their pace at the horrifying grin he’d flash them.  
  
Sandor reached the rotted wooden sign symbolizing their entrance into Eagle Pass. It was a late start for him this morning so the town was by now bustling. Even as he rode past Candie’s Bar he could hear the commotion inside, and it was barely noon. Some of the prostitutes were leaning under the bar’s overhang, pushing out their chests and swishing their skirts. Trying to entice potential customers. Perhaps another time, it's been awhile since he had a woman. Usually after a tougher bounty, when he taken the seeker up on the ‘or dead’ option, he'd find some wench to spill into instead of his fist. But right now he needed to get to the doctor.  
  
He hitched Stranger to the post outside of the Doc’s brick building. Giving him a reassuring pat that he'd be right back. As he entered he didn’t see the Doc sitting behind the counter where he was regularly posted. He called out, hoping he wasn't in the back patching up some sad sack.  
  
“Hey Doc! You back there?”   
  
Something clashed to the floor followed by a few muttered curses. The doctor pushed his way out of the curtains separating the front room from his examine room, rubbing his forehead. The stout man obviously had just woken up, his white hair in disarray and his trousers undone.   
  
“Uh long night Doc?” Sandor smirked.  
  
“Yes. But not in the way you think! The Carmelo ranch was raided last night. Ethan was able to shoot the majority of them, but not before getting a wound himself. I stitched him up good though. How is your wound handling?”  
  
Sandor lifted up his shirt to show him the shiny indentation left from his run in with the Dondarrion gang. The doctor had told him he was lucky because the bullet had narrowly missed his kidney. He had just shrugged and said, “I have a spare one.” Which earned him a head shake from the doctor.   
  
“Now I didn’t come here to be prodded at. Bonnie said you had some medicine for her.” The Doc quit his ministrations and turned to the shelf holding all different types of vials. He grabbed a bulbous brown bottle and handed it to Sandor.   
  
He lifted the bottle to his nose.   
  
“Whoa, the man has bronchitis. Not a hankering for a ham sandwich.” Sandor rasped.  
  
The Doc just rolled his eyes.   
  
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were a doctor too. It's a mustard plaster, it will open him up.” Sandor held his arms up in the air, chuckling. He just liked messing with the old man. “Just tell him to put some shortening on his chest, then a cloth with the mustard paste on it. If he puts the paste straight on his skin, it might irritate him. And tell him to drink plenty of water!”  
  
He handed him the bill Bonnie had given him to pay the doctor with, and made to leave.   
  
“See you soon!” The Doc called after him.  
  
“I sincerely hope not!” Sandor laughed.  
  
He left Stranger hitched and walked over to the post office where they plastered the bounty posters. There must have been a new post because there was a crowd of men standing around the board talking in hush tones.  
  
“I heard she orchestrated the whole thing,” said one guy with a cheesy handlebar mustache.  
  
“Yeah right! Like a twenty year old girl could pull off something as big as that!” Another man countered.  
  
“Well whatever, good for her. Those Baratheons are fucking rich enough, laying down all that railroad track with dirt cheap labor. Those Lannister cunts are even worse, except they’ve never worked a day in their life!” The mustached man threw back.  
  
Sandor pushed his way through the men to get a good look at what he’d be dealing with. He stood face to face with a photograph of a young woman. A highly attractive young woman at that.   
  
The poster read, ‘Wanted: Sansa Stark. 20 years old. Red hair, blue eyes. Approximately 5’10. 130 pounds. Wanted for arson and theft. Alive. Return to Baratheon Ranch in San Antonio, Texas. Reward: $25,000.’  
  
“Buggering hell! $25,000?!” Sandor all but shouted. The Baratheons were sodding morons for throwing that kind of money away. Well when you’re rich it must make no difference. Still, for a twenty year old girl? A spoiled heiress whose toughest struggle is picking which gown wear; this would be way too simple. The only thing is San Antonio is almost 150 North of Eagle Pass. The girl could be anywhere by now. Most likely one would think to head South to Mexico though.  
  
Sandor hastily ripped the poster down, folding it up carefully to put in his pocket. He was a ruthless bounty hunter, few wanted to go up against, but he didn't need some cocky asshole to find the girl first. Some others have by now got a head start on him. For $25,000 though, it was worth a try. Plus if she was headed to Mexico she might be passing through Eagle Pass.   
  
He made his way back to Stranger, untying the reins from the hitching bar. Climbing back in saddle he spurred the beast back towards Bonnie’s ranch, leaving a cloud of   
bronze earth behind him.   
  
The sun was brutally strangling any would be relief from a swift ride. He pulled out his canteen and took a lengthy swig, pouring some over his head too. Sandor was enjoying the temporary respite from the heat when a blood curdling scream broke out.  
  
It was probably another bandit robbing some carriage, those bastards were way out of control and seemed to be multiplying. He galloped off into the direction he figured the screaming was coming from. Maybe they would offer him something in return for his help. And if not, well at least he would get to kill some scum of the Earth.  
  
Sandor spotted a chestnut colored mare bolting away from a rarely used trail, nickering wildly. Whatever meager possessions this person, a woman by her screams, had were strewn about in the dirt from when the horse took off.  
  
He approached cautiously; not wanting to get caught in a swindler’s trap if it was just a ploy. From his vantage point he could see a fairly large rattle snake coiled in a defensive position, looking like it would strike at any moment. There on the ground a few feet away was the shrieking woman trying to retreat from the aggressive animal. She had managed to back herself up against a colossal boulder. Her head wrap slid off, exposing a crop of fiery red hair.   
  
Well if it wasn’t his lucky fucking day.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa: A few hours after escaping.

The sound of giggling and snickering is what snapped her into consciousness. Sister Mordane had been droning on about the Spanish American War, a topic that held little to no interest to Sansa. She realized she actually had fallen asleep. Her father’s study also doubled as a schoolroom for the Stark children. The laughing got louder as she turned her head to find the source. All her siblings refused to look her in the eyes. Except Arya. Sansa went to run her fingers through her hair and was rewarded with a crumpled piece of paper. She started pulling other odds and ends out of her hair while mentally cursing her obstinate younger sister. She tried to focus on the words coming from Sister Mordane’s mouth but eventually she could hear nothing. Her lips were moving but she could not make out any sound. Soon everything and everyone in the room fell away. The only thing that stood was the great fireplace. As she approached the roaring hearth the flames cracked and sizzled and then exploded into a dark grey mass. She then heard a familiar voice. It was her sweet Bran, her second youngest brother.

“Sansa, you must return North. Get out of Texas.” Bran said cryptically.

“I'm headed to Mexico. I can't stay in America, I'll never be safe with the Lannisters afoot!” Sansa screams, unsure if she's sane or not.

“You need to return to Colorado. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”

“Bran, what do you mean? Where are you and Rickon? What's happened?” She asks in a panic.

“We’re on our own journey. But you must go North! That is where your strength lies.”

“I can't do this alone. I was never the brave one. Or the clever and cunning one...”

“You will meet someone who will aide you. But beware the three headed dog.”

Abruptly the fire bursted into oblivion.

“Bran, who? How will I know? And what is a three headed dog?” Sansa’s voice echoed off the nothingness. A chill cut her to the bone; it was so very cold...

Sansa woke up shivering. Shivering and bewildered. That dream she had was so vivid. She recalled her current situation. The car was stopped and Bronn was not in the driver’s seat. She pushed herself up in horror, and looked out the window. It must have been about dawn. A soft lavender color blanketed the sky. Carefully, she let herself out of the car. She looked around for any sign of life but came up short. It felt like she was standing at the end of the world. She walked further until she was sure she wasn't dreaming anymore. That's when she heard some rushing water and found Bronn, but not the source of the water. Sansa planted herself next to Bronn and realized they were standing atop a canyon, a narrow river running deep in the gully.

“Mornin’ Miss Sansa.” Bronn offered, not looking to her.

He was holding what looked to be the automobile license plates. Which she thought was odd, weren't those needed? Before she could even ask, Bronn hurled the plates down into the canyon. They flipped and fluttered through the air until all that was left of them was a tiny splash in the river.

“We better get a move on. The nearest town in about twelve miles that way.” He says as points in an indistinguishable direction.

“We’re walking...” Sansa asks aghast. As they made their way back to the car they’d be ditching.

“It would look a bit strange if a fancy Model T rode up in some poor shabby western town. The plan is to stay in a little tavern while one of the Tyrion’s men draws up some fake documents for you.”

Sansa had a sudden realization. How can she trust Tyrion? Yes he was always decent to her, but he was still a Lannister. Surely there was a method behind his madness. Now she was out in the middle of nowhere with a dangerous hired hand... _Could I be any more obtuse?_

As if reading her mind Bronn offered, “Now lass, Tyrion is a good man unlike those other lion twats. He said he was indebted to you for keeping hush about Shae.”

It's true. She knew that Shae had been bedding Tyrion. It mattered not to Sansa, Shae was good to her. She made her face reality, which she desperately needed. Sansa knew that if Cersei found out about Shae she’d be shipped off just to spite Tyrion.

Bronn opened the car door to grab the sack of her few possessions. He handed her a scarf. She looked at him confused.

“For your hair. With those beautiful red tresses you stick out like maiden in a whore house, excuse me for saying. But the less suspicion we raise the better.”

She wrapped the fabric around her head, making sure every strand was perfectly hidden. Then they started walking under the climbing heat of the morning sun.

* * *

Sansa: Two weeks later

The tavern she was dispatched at was called the Crossroads Inn. Named because it sits so near the border between Mexico and the United States. Bronn got her settled in within a day. He had paid for her room and meals for up to a month, he explained he wasn't sure when the documents would come in. They also decided a fake name would be for the best, so Sansa Stark was for now Laila Evans. Before Bronn left he had purchased a docile horse for her that she named Faith.

The staff at the inn were very kind to her. Sansa was nervous when Bronn left but the staff made her feel welcome. There was no unrelenting questioning. She didn't know if that was Bronn’s doing or not, but she was thankful.

Jeyne and Willow were the two young sisters who ran the Crossroads Inn. They handled everything from cleaning the rooms to throwing out rowdy bar patrons. If the patron was particularly large the handsome stable hand, Gendry, would take care of them. From the instant she first saw Gendry she felt he looked strangely familiar. She chose not to think on it more, wanting to push herself away from any old ties.  
  
During her first week at the inn she rapidly formed a friendship with Jeyne. They were both around the same age, but unlike Sansa’s upbringing anyone could see Jeyne’s life had been anything but grand. Jeyne and Willow had lost both their parents while Willow was barely out of infancy. It made Sansa appreciate that she at least got to spend 19 years with her father. _Oh father..._

Sansa had taken up doing random tasks around the inn. She enjoyed running errands for Jeyne, giving her a chance to brush up on her riding skills with Faith. It also gave her a chance to take in some new scenery. Her room at the inn was extremely quaint, but she easily got stir-crazy. Bronn had advised her not to leave the Crossroads unless absolutely necessary but she figured she was far enough away from immediate danger. Plus she wouldn't talk to anyone or make eye contact and she had the scarf to keep her hair hidden.

Mainly Jeyne would just send her to other establishments in the shanty town. To get any post at post office or to the sparsely stocked general store.

“Laila! I'm terribly sorry to ask this of you but tomorrow is Willow’s birthday and that worthless general store is out of sugar! It’s a tradition that I always make Willow her favorite chocolate cake. Would you mind running to the next town over? It is a short journey and I would be forever grateful!”

“Oh how lovely! Of course I'll go! There is a path right?” Sansa inquired.

“Yes, it is well worn- you should have no problems! Here is a list and some money, you should find everything there. They make it a point to be well stocked...” Jeyne mused.

She happily took the list and went out to the stables. Gendry saddled Faith for her and she packed a few things in her saddlebag.

“It's all ready Miss Laila,” Gendry cheerfully quipped. He helped her settle onto Faith’s saddle.

After making sure her scarf was secure and her canteen was full she was off.  She followed Jeyne’s directions easily enough and soon found herself in the new town. It was almost an exact carbon copy of Black Water where the inn was located. Sansa thought it funny that this general store should have what Jeyne needed when it looked exactly like the one near them. Surprisingly she found everything on the list and had change left over. The store’s proprietor was kind but still she avoided speaking and meeting his gaze for more than a couple seconds offering a friendly smile instead.

She brought the provisions out to Faith and carefully tackled them to the saddle hoping they wouldn’t spill out. She led Faith leisurely out of the town’s front gates, deciding to take her time, liking the sunshine on her pale face. She closed her eyes, feeling the sun’s rays warmth radiate through her tired muscles. A sweet chirping filled the air; Sansa opened her eyes to find the source. She saw a tiny scarlet bird dancing across the sky. Unknowingly Faith had cantered off the beaten path and as Sansa looked about she could recognize no distinguishing markers. Everything was the same bland monotonous sandy hue with the occasional saguaro. Her only hope was turning Faith around and heading back from where they came.

As she turned her horse around her ears caught another noise. This sound was anything but melodic and inviting. This sound was lethal. Sansa screamed. The snake violently rattled it’s tail again, Faith reared in the air throwing Sansa from the saddle. She landed brutally on her backside, knocking the wind out of her. Faith was already dashing away with Sansa’s purchases falling to the wayside.

She collected her fears the best she could and tried slowly inching back from the beast. But the snake must have still felt threatened because he coiled and stood up. She started shrieking louder and quickly backed up further. Her back hit a large boulder. Sansa still shrieking closed her eyes as if hoping to turn invisible.  
  
Suddenly she heard the sound of massive hooves approaching. A tremendous stomp and then the rattling ceased.  
  
She opened her eyes to see a giant of a man, on an even bigger horse towering over her. His face was shielded by the sun.  
  
“Thank you sir!  I’ve never seen a rattle snake before and I guess I froze.” Sansa clamored off the ground trying to adjust the scarf that had fallen off her head while brushing the dust from her clothing.  
  
“I’m no sir,” he spat. He stepped out of the sun’s path and Sansa saw that one side of his face was covered with horrific burns. She audibly gasped, forgetting her manners.  
  
Trying to cover up her rudeness she asked, “Then what shall I call you?”  
  
“My name is Sandor Clegane.” He rasped. “And you are Sansa Stark.” He said with a dangerous lop sided smirk that only made him look all the more fearsome.  
  
She stood rooted in her spot, seemingly cemented. Her mouth hanging open and her heart pounding fiercely.

Sansa’s body filled with dread as her eyes caught sight of a pattern stitched into the man’s saddle. A three-headed dog.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor

 

His decision to “save” the young lady was basically made for him. The poster clearly said ALIVE, and a rattlesnake bite- while not always deadly- was a risk he’d rather not take. There was no way a fucking snake was taking $25,000 out of his pocket.

Sandor charged towards the animal, Stranger’s hooves pounding the dry cracked earth. The girl was still screaming like a banshee with her eyes closed. Not even attempting to get away. Stupid rich bitch. In an instant they were upon the creature and with one swift stomp of Stranger’s leg- the snake was crushed to death. Just a heap of camouflaged scales, no longer serving any purpose.

The girl opened her eyes. Which were the most unique shade of blue he had ever seen… _Bugger me! What was that?_ She was openly staring up at him, spouting her pointless courtesies. Like he was some knight in shining armor, she even called him “sir!” Ha, she won’t be thanking me in a minute. 

“I’m no sir,” he growled to her. He urged Stranger out of the sun’s fury and he heard the girl gasp loudly. He scoffed, she’d get used to his ugly mug soon enough. She quickly tried to cover up her disgust by asking for his name. There is no harm in letting her know her captor’s identity. 

“My name is Sandor Clegane.” He said with a cocky half smile. As she was absorbing that piece of information Sandor added, “And you are Sansa Stark.”

Her pale skin blanched even further, rivaling the luminosity of the moon. Her mouth hung open and her posture shrunk. Her eyes were dilated with that fight or flight response. She didn’t look like she had much fight, no this one was a little bird. Wishing she could sprout wings at this very moment. The fear was rolling off her slender form with great force. 

“You are mistaken Si- Sandor… my name is Laila Evans.” She sputtered. What a horrific liar.

“Cut the shit. Here is how this is going to go down. You will either come with me willingly like the good little heiress you are… or I will bind your hands and feet in some coarse rope and throw you over the back of Stranger. Pick your poison.” He sneered.

She looked like she was about to scream bloody murder.

“Don't waste your breath screaming. Remember what alerted me to you? I don't want to have to gag that pretty mouth of yours as well.” The girl gulped audibly.

“Wh-what do you want from me?” 

“The bounty on your head girl. Those fucking wealthy Lannister shits are offering $25,000.”

“No please! You can't take me back there!” She was now backing up, tears in her eyes. Sandor advanced towards her, like cat and mouse. Or in this case hound and bird.

He grabbed her tiny wrists in one of his large hands. Sandor’s nose was now practically touching hers. 

“Your tears won't work on me girl.” She was looking everywhere but his face. “LOOK AT ME.” He yelled pulling her chin up. She raised her watery eyes full of terror to look at him.

“I've killed plenty of men. Even some women. I'm a killer. So your waterworks don't affect me.” The little bird was now trembling. _God almighty, this was going to be a long fucking trip._

“Now are you going to comply with me or are we going to do this the hard way? Well harder for you, it's no skin off my ass tying you to my horse. I figure a delicate princess such as yourself wouldn't enjoy that too much.”

With a new resolved look of steel in her eyes, she furrowed her brow and spat, “Fine. Let's get this over with so you can get your precious money!”

Sandor turned towards Stranger, dragging the girl along. 

“Before we go, can I please just get something out of my saddlebag? It's just right over there; it was thrown when Faith bolted.” She pointed to a leather bag tumbled open in the dirt.

He snorted, _Faith. Lot of good that did her…_

“Be quick about it. I've had enough of this blazing sun.” He opened his own saddlebag to pull out his canteen for another drink. After draining the rest of it, he put it back. _What the hell is this girl doing? She wouldn't be stupid enough to run in the middle of nowhere, would she?_ He spun on his heels to investigate. There she was standing. Hands shaking, a revolver pointed at his face.

Sandor barked out a great laugh, his whole body raked with mirth. _She may have some fight in her still. A bit foolish though._

“Stop laughing! I will shoot you!” The girl said with as much gusto she could muster. The gun still pointed at him. Her teeth visibly clattering.

“Will you now? Do you even know how to use that thing?” He asked her.

“Might be I do. You won't know until you’re dead!”

“Well here is a tip; you may want to close the cylinder. Maybe put some rounds in the chamber too.” Sandor said with a straight face, trying to wipe all the humor from his face.

She dropped her arms down, looking completely defeated. He walked towards her taking the revolver and inspecting it.

“This is nice. Mind if I hold on to it?” She said nothing as he repo-ed the gun, stashing it away. 

“We're going now girl. No more games.” He took the little bird and threw her over his shoulder depositing her on Stranger. She sat there still as stone, just gazing with unseeing eyes ahead.

He jumped up behind her, encircling her in his arms and taking the reins. Her spine stood at a perfect 180 degree angle, freezing at his touch. Thankfully he didn't actually have to tie her up. As Stranger galloped on, the motion in the saddle was doing terrible things to him. Every sway was throwing the girl’s round ass against his crotch. If he was a pious man he would undoubtedly be sure that was what heaven felt like. _Fuck! Stop you pervert. She probably already thinks you're going to rape her! She's terrified._ He scooted as far back in the saddle he could get, he’s a big man though and there was little spare room to be had. 

_Oh thank fuck._ The ranch came into view. He slowed Stranger right into the stable. Swinging off of him before the horse even stopped. She didn't need to see the situation going on in his trousers.

“You stay here while I go take care of a couple things. We will be going shortly.” The girl broke her silence just then.

“I don't see any car. How are you taking me back exactly, _sir_.” Her inquiry awash with irritation.

He ignored her trying to provoke him by calling him sir. “You're sitting on him. Now don't go trying any half-baked scheme. Stranger is famous for taking fingers, and he’s kicked his fair share of stable hands. Don't go chirping neither.” Taking the medicine out of the bag, he left her to go find Bonnie and gather his things.

He headed towards the main house, hoping he'd be able to catch her there. He knocked on the flimsy screen door waiting for a reply. Sandor was rewarded with a shout coming from the garden. 

“I’m out back!”

He walked the worn path leading to the garden. Over the course of the month he’d been staying at the ranch, he had become familiar with every rock and root. Sandor had grown fond of the place; he never really stayed in one place too long. His years of being nomadic were catching up to him. This $25, 000 bounty could change everything. It would finally enable him to move north, find a cabin and some steady work. _After I dispose of that fucking monster, Gregor, of course._ His brother had been a stain on his life even before Gregor literally stained his face with dreadful scars.  
  
Sandor found Bonnie bent over some ripe tomatoes, her hands twisting the gnawed stems.

“Those damn rabbits! They burrowed right under the fence.” Bonnie wailed exasperated. She looked up at Sandor squinting from the sun, knowing he had come to her for a reason. He wasn’t known for knocking on doors.  
  
“I got that jackass’s medicine. I’m not sure about that doctor. I think he just sold you some Dijon mustard.” He chuckled, handing over the glass bottle to Bonnie. She wiped her hands on her dress before grabbing it, popping the topper and taking a sniff.   
  
“Woo! That’s some potent stuff. If that don’t cure him I don’t know what will! Thank you.”

Sandor grunted in reply, still not accustomed to being thanked for things.  
  
“Bonnie, I’m moving on. I’m grateful for your hospitality. And for not asking too many questions…” Sandor awkwardly grumbled, he had never said goodbye before. He just packed up and left. But he actually respected this woman.  
  
“But you have found a good opportunity. It’s okay, I knew you weren’t staying forever. Though I really will miss that great shot of yours! Haven’t seen a coyote in weeks!” Bonnie happily finished for him.

She gave him a warm smile. Sandor _really_ didn’t do goodbyes. He gave her forearm a pat and turned to leave.  
  
“Sandor!” He paused, his back to Bonnie. “I just wanted to warn you, there have been sightings of your brother, Gregor. That’s his name right?” He faced her and nodded, his rage blooming at the mention of his name. “He’s about 30 miles northwest of here. I never told you because you were still healing. I’m sorry.” 

He nodded again, slightly pissed at her dishonesty. There was nothing to do about it now. At least she spoke up now; he wouldn’t want to run into that whoreson unaware. Not with the little bird anyway. No, better to deal with Gregor after he returns the girl. That fucker just made his journey longer. _I’m going to have to dip into Mexico to avoid that mongrel._ If only he could just go east but no, the fucking Dondarrion gang is hanging around those parts. _Just get me the fuck out of this buggering state!_  
  
Sandor silently retreated from the garden, heading to his small room in the outpost where all the ranch hands stayed. He didn’t know what it said about him that he had so few personal possessions. It was always better to travel light. Looking around for any remaining effects, he lifted a photo of a young girl with long black hair and huge grey eyes. She was mid laugh. He tucked the photo in his breast pocket. And just like that he detached himself from the ranch.

When he went back to Stranger, his hands full of supplies. A couple canteens, bread and cheese, some assorted meats, two blankets, plenty of ammunition, a fine bowie knife and two durable bed rolls. He realized the girl had nothing on her; he’d have to get a few things in Mexico. _That should be fun…  
  
_ Sandor saw that the little bird was in the exact same position he left her in. _She can listen, that’s good._ She didn’t say anything when he entered, she didn’t even spare him a glance. _Well you are marching her back to those people. God knows what they’ll do with her. Wait a minute, that isn’t your problem! $25,000. $25,000._ Still, he couldn’t help the pang of remorse he felt for the girl. What a fantastic time to start turning soft.

He gave Stranger some oats and fresh water as he bundled everything on to him. He also should get the girl another horse sometime in the near future, if earlier was any indication of the torture he was about to endure. Hopefully the little bird won’t have as many ideas about running off then.

They were ready to go, he wanted to put as many miles as he could in now that they’d have to loop around his brother’s encampment. He made sure as he got into the saddle not to touch her. As they dashed out of the ranch, the back way to remain unseen, he heard the little bird mutter something.  
  
“What was that girl?”

“Aren’t we going the wrong way? San Antonio is north of here.” She squeaked.   
  
“I’m _not_ daft girl. We’re taking a detour. Believe or not there are worse men then me out there.” He boomed at her.  
  
“…Yes, Joffrey.” She whispered, and was silent after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My classes have been draining. I’d like to thank you for the kind reviews, the follows and favorites! It really keeps me motivated knowing that you guys enjoy my story!   
> In this chapter Sansa may seem slightly OOC but that’s because I’m building towards something. Also I enjoyed the snarky Sansa from season 1 of the show.  
> Enjoy!

  
Sansa

She didn't know how long they had been riding. The Crossroads Inn was situated right on the border of Mexico, and that was only a half hour ride from where he “found” her. She figured they must be well into Mexico by now. Sansa felt like they were walking on the surface on the sun; sitting on top a black destrier with a large man at her back she was enveloped in heat! Their surroundings didn't help any either, the environment was so bland. All her eyes could see was the yellow orange hue of the desert. She wanted so badly to ask how much longer they’d be riding, but she feared he would snap at her again. He acted as if she was forcing him to bring her back, that this was all her doing!

Sansa watched the sun glide further and further through the sky, symbolizing a closing to a horrible day. A hopeless day. She couldn't just let herself be delivered back to the Lannisters. It would mean sure death. Escaping is pointless. But she had to try. If only she knew where they were headed.

Stranger was slowed to a stop. She looked about but couldn't see any defining mark; they couldn't be stopping here could they? What about mountain lions? She had heard some horrifying stories about groups of campers sitting around a fire peacefully when suddenly a camper would be dragged away in the jaws of a cougar! She instinctively shivered.

Sandor got down from the saddle and started unrolling things. Paying no attention to her.

"Are you going to sleep up there Little Bird? I don't know how comfortable that would be."

“We're camping here? What about... mountain lions?” She asked in a hush whisper as if they would appear at her mention of them.

He just rolled his eyes at her.

"That's what this is for," he said patting his holster that held his pistol. He went back to finding some sort of fuel for a fire. Leaving her atop Stranger. _Ugh that man._ As gracefully as possible she tried to slide from the saddle. Her dress must have caught because the next thing she knew she was on her back-side and Sandor was on the ground laughing.

She got up, her pride hurting more than her behind. With a scowl she pulled out her assigned bed roll and laid it out where the fire was to be. She dropped down on it like a ton of rocks. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

“You gonna help Princess?" Came a snide voice.

“Oh so I'm your prisoner and servant?” She shot back aggravated. _Honestly you think he’d treat me nicer being I’m his ticket to $25,000._

“Well if you want to eat I suggest you get your dainty ass up because I sure as hell am not serving you!” He barked.

She got up and poked the fire while he set up the pan to fry some sausages. She noticed he acted almost afraid of the fire. That would be too funny, a man of his size terrified of a tiny campfire. She also noticed he had a bottle of tequila he was nursing. _Where did he even get that? I didn't see him pack it..._

The sounds of the sizzling sausages reminded Sansa how ravished with hunger she was. It was nearly dark and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast at the Crossroads. _Jeyne probably is beside herself right now. And poor Willow will never get her chocolate birthday cake!_

Sansa watched as Sandor took his portion along with a heel of bread. She did the same and retreated back to her bed roll. Hugging the cover around her as the outside temperature was drastically dropping. Across from her she could see that he was staring straight at her. It was unnerving.

"Can I help you, sir?"

He scoffed. And took another swig. There was a pregnant pause before he finally asked.

"How did you do it?"

“Excuse me?"

He grunted. “How did you pull off a heist AND arson? You're just a little girl who can't even use a pistol! Did someone help you pull it off?"

"I'm not a little girl! And what are you talking about? I had nothing to do with any of that! I fled once I saw they were burning the stables. Some man even tried grabbing me on the way out but my friend stabbed him before he could do anything."

“How did you get out then?" He questioned, looking intrigued.

"Tyrion Lannister helped me," she answered. Remembering the short man with the mismatched eyes. Those forged documents won't do her any good now...

A harsh laugh broke through her day dream.

“You mean you accepted help from a _Lannister_?! You really are a naïve stupid little bird!"

"I am not! He said he owed me!" She shouted at his drunken form. She didn't even know why she was explaining herself to him. She turned away from his laughing.

The fire popped loudly and Sandor nearly jumped out of his skin. She let out a little chuckle.

“Are you afraid of fire?” She asked, instantly regretting it. He quickly got up, dropping his bottle of tequila, and stormed towards her. He pulled her up by her shoulders and shoved his face in hers. In the fire light his face was even more gruesome. It was then she put two and two together.

“You see this girl?" He roared pointing to his scarred features. “This was no accident, no. No matter how many people my father told it wasn't true. You think I’m such a monster I know, but there is one out there far worse. Yes, my brother Gregor. This is the mark he left on my childhood, hell my fucking life. He didn’t like me playing with his toy so you know what he did little bird?” Sansa shook her head in fear. “He shoved my face in a pile of embers. Even though he didn’t give a shit about the toy. I was six years old, him eleven. He was already large for his age. It took two grown men to pull him off of me. I then screamed until I passed out. The room smelt of burnt flesh for days. So forgive me if I’m not too fond of fires.” He pushed her back onto her bed roll and stalked back to his.  
  
“…I’m sorry he did that to you. He sounds atrocious.” She managed to squeak out.  
  
He laughed darkly at that. “Still so courteous I see. But that he is. I will kill him someday soon. Rid the world of his filth.” The way he just nonchalantly said it, serious as anything, made her shake with renewed fear. She hoped they didn’t actually come across this man.

“Now go to sleep girl. Tomorrow we should reach the city.” He rolled over then, ending any questions she wanted to ask.  
  
She crawled beneath her blanket but sleep did not come for some time. Sansa couldn’t help feeling a bit of sympathy for the man. Her own childhood had been so picturesque she often forgot that wasn’t the case for some people. She came from a loving family, where she mostly got along with her siblings. Arya did grate her nerves, but she never truly wanted to kill her. They were sisters, the same blood pumped through their hearts. If she ever got to see Arya again she’d hug her dearly and make an effort to talk more and not be so short with her.   
  
Sansa wondered what city they would reach tomorrow. She also wondered why they were even in Mexico to begin with! There had to be a logical reason, but she dared not ask him again. She finally fell asleep into a dream filled slumber thinking of Winterfell and her father’s strong face.  
  
She awakened rather roughly when Sandor tugged the warm blanket from her. She got up grumpily noticing that the sun was barely up. Breakfast was seemingly cooking over the small fire. The rest of the camp was packed up, except for her bed. _How long has he been up?_  
  
Hastily she rolled up her blanket and bed roll all in one. She wished she had a change of clothes, or at least a hairbrush. She could only imagine the state her hair was in.

As she got up to look at breakfast she saw it was sausage… again. She took one and retreated to a quiet spot, she was in no mood to converse. Or in her case be cursed at.  
  
After their breakfast was finished, the horse fed and her remaining bed roll tackled; they returned to the saddle. This time when she was lifted into the saddle though his hands didn’t clench at her sides. He jumped up behind her, wordlessly. They continued on like that for what must have been hours. No words spoken. He only stopped Stranger once when they came upon a small stream, letting the horse drink his fill. Sandor also filled up both their canteens, silently handing hers over. His eyes darting away from hers.   
  
Sansa was tremendously sore from the copious amounts of riding, and was about to protest going any further when suddenly in the distance a cluster of buildings came into view. _Thank God! This must be the city he was talking about!_  
  
Drawing up the remnants of her strength, she straightened her posture and looked ahead excitedly. The city would hopefully be the key to her escape. As they approached the city’s postern gateway, she could hear the cacophony of city life. Shouts from stall owners yelling about their various wares, in a language foreign to her ears. Her Spanish was extremely limited, it being another lesson Sansa could barely stay conscious through.

For the first time that day Sandor spoke to her.

“We need to get you a few things before we find a tavern to stay the night in.”

She nodded her agreement, she was about to bring up that she didn’t have any money but she figured he already knew that.

As they rode through the stalls an American had seemingly spotted them, calling out to them.  
  
“Hello my friends! Are you looking for anything in particular?” A man with sandy brown hair and crystal blues eyes stepped out from behind the flap of his stall. In the light Sansa was struck by the man’s rugged handsomeness. He was of medium build and was dressed in finery. From the pocket of his purple vest hung a golden watch that glistened in the sun.   
  
Sandor brought Stranger to a halt. He sneered at the word “friend.” He dismounted, and swiftly placed her on the ground.  
  
“You’re no friend of mine. But the girl is in need of a few dresses and some… under things,” Sandor answered clearly uncomfortable. Sansa felt her face reddened. _How embarrassing._

“Well my beautiful lady,” he sweetly said his soft hand grasping hers, “you’re in luck! I have a great selection of dresses befit a most gorgeous woman such as you.” Sansa’s felt her face reddened even deeper.   
  
“Enough of the smooth talk! I’ll buy the damn dresses, just show her.” Sandor barked harshly.   
  
Sansa moved inside the stall with the man, his hand on the small of her back, leaving Sandor outside with Stranger. He showed her stunning dresses, all of which he said came straight from the states. She picked two. One in blue with three turquoise buttons and one in a deep red with white pinstripes. She also made sure to get sufficient under garments. All the while talking with Allen, as she learned was his name. He had such a charming way about him; it was nice to talk with someone effortlessly.   
  
After some time they went back out where Sandor was standing, fidgeting from foot to foot.  
  
“It’s about damn time! What the hell, did you have to sew the fucking dresses?! How much?” He angrily boomed.  
  
“For this stunning creature, nothing,” Allen declared once again taking Sansa’s hand but this time placing a chaste kiss on it.  
  
“Oh, I really can’t just take these things…’ She started, her mind swimming with his compliments.

Allen held up his hands, signifying he would heed no argument.   
  
Thanking him profusely they finally left the stall. Sansa feeling slightly dismayed she wouldn’t see him again. Sandor mood was spiraling down and spiraling down fast.  
  
They found a tavern that didn’t appear as questionable as the others they had passed. Sandor hitched Stranger then turned to her.  
  
“You will not speak. You will make no eye contact. We are going in for a meal and to sleep.” He told her pointedly.   
  
She followed him into the dimly lit tavern. There were a few patrons around some shoddy tables taking their evening meal. Most had giant flagons of drink as well.  
  
Sansa heard Sandor speak to the balding inn keep.  
  
“I need one room, two beds. Two meals, with plenty of drink. And a stall for my horse. Also are there any mares for sale?”   
  
The man just stared at Sandor, eyeing him suspiciously. _Oh he must not speak English._ She thought.  
  
Sandor was about to stomp away when the man answered, “Do you have the money?”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!” _Always so crude._  
  
The inn keeper handed some keys over to Sandor. “I don’t want any trouble. And yes there is a mare. Its owner was shot. She’s out back in the stables if you want to take a look.” Sandor nodded his consent and followed the man out to the stables with Stranger in toe. Sansa was left at the counter, standing around awkwardly.

Sandor was back with the man in a matter of minutes handing him some money. The inn keep then shouted at a stout woman in Spanish who brought them to a table well secluded in the corner. They sat down at the wooden table, Sandor watching the other patrons wearily. The stout woman was back with two steaming plates pilled with food. The smell was heavenly.   
  
“Arroz, frijoles y tamales,” the woman smiled at her placing Sandor’s ale in front of him too. Sansa smiled back, though she didn’t understand the last word.  
  
She dug in with enthusiasm, her meal was quite delicious. Sandor must have agreed because he inhaled his before she even had her rice done. The “tamale” was new to her but she loved it, it was filled with some sort of cheese and beef.  
  
Sansa watched as Sandor drank more and more, and as more patrons gathered inside bringing up the noise level. Realizing it offered the perfect distraction for her to sneak away. She coyly asked him question after question feigning friendliness. He was just as gruff as ever, offering her one word answers or just totally ignoring her. As more time passed she recognized the glazed look in his eyes.   
  
“May I go up to the room? I am so very tired.” She asked sweetly.  
  
He looked at her, as if searching for any deviousness. She made sure to keep eye contact. Finally, he handed her the keys.  
  
“Lock the door behind you. I will give you a signal when it’s me.”  
  
She took the key and made to get up, he grabbed her hand.  
  
“Sleep well little bird.” She gave him a smile. Sandor turned in the chair, his eyes followed her as she climbed the stairs. Once at the top and out of view she waited some time, checking to see if he was still watching. The coast was clear. A couple was heading down in front of her, she ducked behind them. She quickly slipped out the door. _That was easier than I thought…  
  
_ She was out in the humid night air; the full moon displayed the city in a more appealing light. Sansa picked up her pace, making sure not to run from the inn as not to make a scene. She didn’t know where she was going, but as long as it was away she was fine. Just as she was about to turn a rather shadowed corner an arm reached out and grabbed her waist.  
  
Stunned she screamed but her mouth was tightly covered by a soft hand, muffling her calls for help. _Who would help me anyway? I’m running away!_  
  
In the light of the moon her eye caught the shine of something.  
  
A gold pocket watch.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback & kudos! You're all so lovely :D  
> tw: abuse tw: attempted rape

Sandor  
  
He doesn't know why he had said it. "Sleep well little bird." _Fucking hell what a half wit_. Truthfully, he knew a small- very minuscule- part of him felt badly for scaring the girl last night. He so clearly saw the total fear in her eyes as he grabbed her chin. Even after making her look him in the face, she had spewed her courtesies and false sympathies. Something he definitely didn't deserve. He was taking her back to her captors for fuck's sake! Which the sooner they reached San Antonio, the better. The little bird was burrowing under his skin, and not in an unpleasant sort of way.   
  
As Sandor was swallowing his last swig of ale, piss poor ale, he overheard two men.  
  
“Monty, did you catch a look at that red headed broad?”  
  
“Oh yeah! She had a nice ass on her.” Sandor inwardly growled at that and imagined the various ways he could snap their necks.  
  
“I was about to go ask the little lady if she's ever ridden a cowboy, but she was already out the door!"  
  
 _Out the door?_ Sandor vaulted out of his chair, it went crashing to the floor; thankfully the patrons were either too drunk or too uninterested to notice. He was out of the establishment in three long strides.   
  
Where the blazes could she have gone?! She could literally be anywhere. The full moon was on his side, as was his confidence that the girl probably had no knowledge of a successful escape plan.  
  
His first thought was to check the stable to see if she had managed to take a horse. He was reassured when he saw all stalls held horses.  
  
He stood in the heavy night air as if trying to hone in on a sixth sense. _If I was a scared girl trying to run from some brute where would I go?_ Sandor scoffed, she's probably looking for some handsome knight to spirit her away.  
  
The breath caught in his chest then ricocheted around when he recalled the street vendor today. _What the fuck was his name? Aaron? Alex?_ He would bet anything she went to find him. If he didn't find her he wouldn't have money to bet on anything.  
  
Using the deserted side streets, he decided to sprint through the narrow paths working from the nearest to the tavern then those further out.   
  
The first two alleys had nothing but a few scary looking cats. Just as he was about to round the corner to the next street he heard that smooth shit talking voice.  
  
“You my dear, left without a proper goodbye. I mean I did gift you those expensive gowns.” Sandor heard the man coo. He peeked out from behind the building and saw them huddled in an alcove. Their shadows were cast along the laundry hanging between the houses.   
  
“Well I would have rather paid for them if I knew your true intentions, _Allen_. I'm not a whore!” Sansa spat. Sandor heard a smack, the sound of flesh hitting flesh.  
  
“I like them feisty,” he challenged. Sandor then saw the dress seller deliver a close handed punch right to Sansa's cheek. She collapsed to the ground, cradling her face. Allen then pulled her up by her hair. Sansa let out a low cry. Sandor was overcome with total and complete rage, his eyes locked on Allen and he knew then that the twisted part in him wouldn't be quelled until he spilt that fucker's blood.  
  
He moved with stealth surprising for someone of his size.   
  
“Oh sweetheart, I like the way you wail! Here let's see how you respond to this.” Allen made to unbutton his trousers. Sandor was now right at the man's back, shielded by an enormous white sheet. Sandor chose then to jump out and encircle him in a head lock.  
  
He spun and threw the startled man against the wall, Sandor's large forearm cutting off the fucker's air. Sandor cocked his pistol and pressed it to the man's temple. Allen was struggling, his feet dangling, red faced and eyes bulging. Sansa had flattened herself to the corner of the alcove, her breathing labored.  
  
“Like beating on women do you? Well lucky for you I just love beating the shit out of spineless cunts. I should fucking kill you you know? God knows I've killed countless others. Fortunately for you they were all under a government warrant. But if I find out there is a bounty on your head,” Sandor threw his head back and laughed, “well let's just say, you might have to start wearing those dresses that you peddle yourself. Because you bet your ass I'll be after you to personally put a bullet through your skull.”  
  
With that he released Allen, who was rubbing his throat vigorously. Sandor put his pistol back in his holster. He made to turn away, but instead swung the full weight of his body into a right hook. Blood sprayed across the white linen sheet as Allen's body fell to the ground unconscious.  
  
“Fucker.”  
  
Sandor went to check on the little bird, but not before delivering a firm kick to the man's ribs.   
  
“Are you alright little bird?” He went to check her cheek where she was bleeding from the punch. She flinched at the contact. Great, she’s probably even more terrified of me now.  
  
“Girl can you make it back to the inn? We need to get out of here.” Sandor asked in his gentlest tone.  
  
Sansa stood there stock still. Her eyes looking ahead but not seeing. She seemed to be in a state of shock, her body paralyzed.  
  
Not seeing much else of a choice Sandor cradled the little bird in his arms to carry back to the tavern.   
  
“You’re alright now little bird.”  
  
Sandor reached their inn before long. Only a couple people gave him an odd look, most likely wondering why he was carrying a grown woman like a baby. They had enough sense though not to glance to long, probably accustomed to staying out of trouble.  
  
He walked through the door, making his way up the stairs. The common room was also dead, the patrons left were barely coherent- face down where they sat. Sandor fished the room key out of his pocket, settling Sansa against his right shoulder so as not to drop her.  
  
Carefully he set her down on the floor, the wooden boards creaking with their combined weight. Remembering the location of the oil lamp he went to turn it on.  
  
As the tiny room became illuminated Sansa eyes scrunched up from the sudden light. She still had not said a word, and he didn’t want to berate her for finding the guts to leave. He actually applauded for her it. But it hadn’t been particularly wise traveling without a weapon, especially in an unknown city.  
  
He carefully led her to her own bed situated on one side of the room, his bed on the adjacent wall. She sat down, staring blankly ahead.  
  
“I’m going to clean the blood off your face.”  
  
He dipped the wash cloth in the bowl of water that the room had supplied them to wash the day’s grime off their faces.  
  
Sandor got down on his knees and slowly dabbed at her cheek. He had never done anything so intimate and personal for someone. She wasn’t objecting to it either, though she hadn’t spoken any words anyway.   
  
“You’re going to have a nice shiner below your eye. I’m going to see if that lousy inn keep has any ice.”  
  
“Will you stay? In the room I mean. I don’t think I want to be alone right now,” a meek voice erupted, breaking her catatonic trance.  
  
He grumbled his reply, “Sure.” Then went to sit on his bed.  
  
They both sat there awkwardly for what seemed like years.   
  
A hysterical laugh filled the quiet room. Sandor’s eyes quickly shot to her. _What the…_  
  
She just kept laughing. Soon she was out of breathe and gasping for air.  
  
“Care to tell me what’s so fucking funny? You tried to run and were very nearly raped!” He barked at her.  
  
“That is exactly what’s funny! I finally escape from the Lannisters where I was beaten regularly, where I lived in constant fear of being raped, only to end up in almost the exact same situation!”  
  
She was delirious.   
  
“As if I had forgotten what I was being brought back to. Apparently that’s all I’ll ever be good for! A human sized punching bag named Sansa, that’s me!” She was laughing hysterically again but then her laughs turned into sobs.  
  
“When Allen started to undo his trousers I had a flash back to one incident back in San Antonio. Joffrey, _my fiancé,_ was livid with me. More than usual. My brother Robb had apparently taken a possible contract out from under his nose. I was punished for that, which I had grown used to. A few punches I had learned to take. But then Joffrey ordered his men to strip me.” She sobbed deeply again. Sandor was still sat across from her. She had his undivided attention.  
  
“They stripped me in front of everyone. His business associates. No one said anything. They practically owned me so I don’t know why I thought someone would have spoken up.”  
  
“Then Joffrey shouted, ‘If we want Robb Stark to hear us we’ll have to speak louder!’ I can only imagine what was to come next. Tyrion, Joffrey’s uncle, came in and put a stop to it.”  
  
She was wiping her tears away with the back of her sleeve. He had no idea why she was telling him all of this. _Fucking hell. Of course you do!_    
  
Those are the fucking low life scumbags you are bringing her back to. You save her from one immediate danger just to bring her back to another. And by the sound of it, even worse danger.  
  
 _$25,000. But could you live with yourself knowing that she'd be in that place being beaten? God knows what they'd do to her. You might fool others into thinking you're some soulless son of a bitch but you can scarcely fool yourself. Though you try hard enough._  
  
If he didn't turn her in, what would he even do with her? Just leave her so she could be snatched up by another who would then take her back? He knew her family came from Colorado. That was a hell of a trek. Before he took her anywhere he needed to know something.  
  
“Girl, what actually happened to your father?” He asked her rather bluntly. Sandor remembers reading about Eddard Stark's death, an "accident" they called it. He died not too long after his business partner Robert Baratheon.   
  
Sansa looked at him wide-eyed. Then quickly turned her head.  
  
"They killed him."  
  
"After Mr.Baratheon died, my father had been going through Robert's business records. I'm not positive what he discovered. All Joffrey said was, 'He was digging where he wasn't supposed to.' Joffrey knows nothing; his mother is the mastermind in that place."  
  
She whipped her head back to look at him. On her own accord, looked him directly in the eyes.  
  
"They made me watch...” She whispered her voice breaking.  
  
“We were all sitting in Robert's old study. It was agreed that Stark Steel would withdraw from the Baratheon Railway Empire, my father would only have to pay a sum for breaking contract..." She was crying full force again.  
  
"I h-had been angry with my father. He told me we were going home, that he was breaking the engagement. I had no idea what was really going on, I was kept in the dark. That's why I went to Cersei, sh-she said she'd talk to him. I remember sitting in that plush chair thinking how gracious Joffrey was being to let my father return home. He called someone to bring in the papers to be signed...”  
  
“The papers were brought in. But before my father could put the pen to paper, they shot him. From behind. He collapsed on the table; I didn't even know he was dead. I was screaming when I heard the gun shot. Then they knocked me out."   
  
“When I woke up they tried to tell me it was a terrible accident. That a gun had misfired. That I had fainted when the commotion started. I just nodded along. There was nothing for me to do."  
  
The girl was now reclined against the wall, hugging her knees to her body.  
  
“I deserved the beatings. It was my fault. I killed my father. They may have fired the gun that killed him. But I gave them the ammunition."  
  
Sandor knew fuck all about consoling anyone, especially a young woman- but he still felt compelled to add his two cents.  
  
He walked over to her bed and sat down. She picked her head up as the bed sagged with his added weight.  
  
“Little bird. You didn't kill your father, and you sure as hell don't deserve to be beaten. The only fault of yours was being too trusting, but those rich cunts make it easy. It's their jobs! It sounds to me that Eddard Stark wasn't being to conspicuous with whatever he found out. Both of your trusts were betrayed."  
  
She gave him a weak smile, weak, but true. The silence that now filled the room was not awkward, but somewhat comfortable. The smile she had given him broke his final reserves about the girl. _He was a total fucking lost cause now. Great._  
  
“May I ask you a question?”  
  
"Still polite as ever. Go ahead girl."  
  
“Why do you call me ‘little bird?’” She asked with a hint of playfulness. He laughed but she just stared at him.  
  
“Well, when I found you- you looked like you were about to sprout wings and fly away. I didn't think you would put up much of a fight. Shit was I wrong!”  
  
“The Stark coat of arms has a wolf. I never felt like one, that was always my younger sister. She is the wild one. I'm probably more like a little bird. Flying away from things...” She quipped sadly.  
  
“Even birds have talons.” He told her. “No, I saw the wolf in you tonight when you smacked that bastard. It’s there in you.”  
  
“I like it though, little bird, I've never had a nickname before.”   
  
They were now both smiling at one another for an immeasurable amount of time. The sun had probably returned to its rightful place in the sky.  
  
“We better get some sleep, if we want to make good time that is.” The color drained from her porcelain face. _God, even in sorrow she is magnificent_. She looked at him quizzically.  
  
“It's a long fucking way to Colorado little bird.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! I had a break, but unfortunately I had a research paper to write (and procrastinate.) I did get to go to the Game of Thrones costume exhibit though and sit on the Iron Throne, which was pretty amazing! 
> 
> I’d like to thank everyone for reading, subscribing and reviewing! Especially Caroh99, Littlefeather, Midnightdawn, & Irenka!
> 
> I may have borrowed a line from The Patriot, if anyone can find it! ;) It’s the same advice my father gave my little brother and I when he taught us to shoot.

**Sansa**  
  
Sansa was stunned; it was as if her world had momentarily stopped spinning. A deafening silence filled the room. She knew her heart was thumping wildly; but she was oblivious to any sound. _Did I hear him correctly?_  
  
"Y-you're taking me to Winterfell?" She asked him with a quiver in her voice.  
  
"Are you deaf girl? Yes, I believe Winterfell is in Colorado," he snorted haughtily.  
  
"Why, w-what about your money?"  
  
"Do you want me to turn you in? Is that it?" He shouted, exasperated.   
  
And now he was scaring her again. A few minutes ago he had actually been kind. She thought it was a foreign concept to the large man. But he had saved her. Yeah, she wasn't anything to him but a rather hefty stack of cash- but he didn't have to wipe the blood from her face. Or listen to her sob.  
  
He sighed, "I'm sorry little bird. It's been a long day, for the both of us. I promise you, I will bring you back home. No one will hurt you anymore, or I'll kill them. We'll map out the plan further in the morning. Let's get some shut eye."  
  
She nodded at him. As he switched off the oil lamp she rolled towards the wall to await sleep. She heard the adjacent bed creak as he climbed in.  
  
"...Goodnight Sandor."  
  
"Goodnight little bird."  
  
That night she fell into a deep slumber almost instantly, feeling a hundred times more confident of her future then she had in months. Sure Sandor was an extremely gruff individual. Not to mention extraordinarily intimidating. And apparently built with a short fuse. But she couldn't help but trust him when he said he'd bring her back home. For the first time in a long while, she indulged herself in the fantasy of returning to her family.  
  
Sansa woke remembering a dream she had days ago. The one where Bran had told her to return North. _Well I guess now I am my sweet Bran._ Suddenly the blood drained from her face as she remembered another thing Bran had told her. A warning. The three headed dog. Sansa knew that Stranger's saddle had a three headed dog embroidered into it. _Maybe I should ask Sandor the meaning behind the dog?_ Sansa really didn't want to believe that warning pertained to Sandor.   
  
She lay in the bed listening to the pattern of her roommate's breathing; she ran a few possibilities through her mind.  
  
After working herself into a frenzy of "what ifs" she decided she needed to clear her mind.   
  
She sat herself up in the stiff bed. Their room was bathed in a russet glow, the hour still early. It was the time of morning when it seemed the world was at a standstill. Her mind strayed to her family again, wondering where they were right now. She was envious of them being together, while she was alone.   
  
Sansa turned her head to look at Sandor asleep in his bed. As far as company goes the man wasn’t the greatest to have. When he wasn’t in a sullen state, more often than not he was angry. Though last night she had seen a completely different side to Sandor, one she previously didn’t think existed.  
  
In the daylight, the man was intimidating. Without even countering in the twisted burns. Sandor was the largest man she had ever come across, though she couldn’t remember if the groundskeeper, Hodor, back at Winterfell was as tall. Sandor was not only large in stature, but also in width. His voice was a deep and husky thing that was enough to make you jump in panic every time he graced you with a few choice words.  
  
As he slept though, his face was at ease. He looked younger than his years. _Not that I even know his age._ He couldn’t be more than thirty. There were no visible lines on his good eye. Sansa felt a bit like a thief, stealing prolonged glances at him without his knowledge. She knew she could never do this while he was awake. The more she studied the long fissures that marred the right side of his face, the less they stood out to her. The burns no longer frightened her. To be honest, the burns scared her less than his facial expressions. His face was usually frozen in a perpetual sneer.

  
Sansa quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to be caught peeping. She planted her feet on the sandy floorboards anxious to start her day. This was the first time she was awake before him. She got up to push the oval window open, to air out the stuffy room.   
  
“Have you been up long?” Sandor’s groggy sleep addled voice asked.   
  
“No, not long. A few minutes before you woke,” she answered jumpily.  
  
He threw the blanket aside, not wasting anytime laying in bed. He stretched his arms above his head, earning him a loud pop. She tried to look any which way but at him, fearing he’d see right through her. She caught a quick glimpse of the taut muscles of his back, stretched beneath his tunic.   
  
“May as well see if that lousy inn keep has a decent breakfast. And flesh out our plan of action.” He turned to face her.  
  
“Uh-h, yes. That sounds good,” she stuttered. Sandor gave her a queer look.

 

She interrupted his study, “I am famished.”  
  
At that Sandor went to open the door and motioned for her to exit. _I need to stop acting flustered; he may think I’m planning something._   
  
As they descended the staircase she could see that most of the patrons must have still been sleeping off their alcohol consumption.   
  
The greasy inn keep and his wife were already behind the bar and there was a delicious scent emanating from the kitchens. Sandor led them to a circular table off to the side of the bar, giving the inn keep a nod as they passed.

 

Soon the plump wife was at their table with two mugs of coffee, a dish of sugar and some fresh milk. Sansa threw a large amount of sugar and milk in her mug, noticing Sandor drank his black.

 

Next she came back with another tray full of food, a feast similar to last night's. The tray held a number of eggs sunny side up, crispy mouth watering bacon, a bowl of salsa, more tortillas, steaming hot corn cakes with sweet butter and some type of red jam. 

 

Sansa crammed the meal into her mouth as fast as her manners allowed. The corn cakes with the jam and butter were the best; they reminded her of her favorite food, lemon cakes.

 

She slowed down to make room for the bacon. She tore her eyes from her plate when she felt Sandor staring at her.

 

"You weren't lying when you said you were famished little bird," he said with a smirk.

 

She inwardly cringed at how unladylike she must have come off as.  
  
“So, Colorado is quite a trip. And here’s the thing…” Sandor trailed off. Sansa readied herself for the inevitable let down. _He’s changed his mind already._  
  
Sansa’s mind wandered, for the next thing she knew Sandor was snapping his fingers in front of her face.  
  
“Hello, little bird. Come back to Earth.”  
  
She locked eyes with him.  
  
“As I was explaining before your mind took flight, Colorado is a long haul. I’m pretty strapped for cash currently. But I was thinking I could pick up a few easy bounties so we will have plenty of money to travel north comfortably.”  
  
Sansa let go of the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in.  
  
“I thought maybe you had changed your mind, that bringing me home was more trouble than it’s worth…” She said meekly.  
  
“Girl, I’ve already promised and I don’t go back on my fucking promises! A hound will die for you but never lie to you.”

 

Though he had been crude, he reassured her. He had no reason to be dishonest with her. Sandor was actually one of the most honest people she had ever met.   
  
“I’m sorry, it’s just after the Lannisters- I don’t give my trust so freely. But I believe you. And I’m sure when we reach Winterfell my family will reimburse you, and then some.”  
  
“Well we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’m going to go into the city and see if maybe any delinquents crossed the border, they’ll be worth more too. Might as well start here and work our way up. You stay up in the roo- “  
  
“No!” Sansa blurted, cutting him off. “I mean, I want to come with you. I can help!”  
  
Sandor laughed. “As much as I appreciate the offer little bird- you can’t even shoot a gun. I’m not even sure you understand what you would be signing up for.”  
  
“Then teach me,” she countered seriously.  
  
“Girl, most of the time when the poster says ‘dead or alive’ I choose the dead option. I’m a killer.”  
  
“Yes but you only kill criminals.”  
  
“You’re not a criminal.” 

“And I’m not dead.” She argued. “If I recall correctly, you SAVED me.” She smiled at him, hoping to convince him.

“I’ll teach you to shoot and how to track, but you will not be put in any danger while I collect the bounties!” He sighed.  
  
“Okay. Deal.” Sansa extended her hand, and after a minute Sandor gave her his and they shook on it.  
  
They had finished breakfast so they went back up to the room so Sandor could collect the revolver he took from her that first day. Upon gathering a few other necessities, they locked their door and left the tavern for the day.  
  
Outside she saw Sandor grab a few discarded bottles. He thrust some in her arms.  
  
“Here girl, hold some of these.”  
  
They then went to the stables to collect the horses. Sansa met the nice mare Sandor had purchased for her to ride. She rubbed it’s velvety muzzle before Sandor helped her into the saddle.  
  
He shoved the various bottles into Stranger’s saddlebag and then jumped on the courser.  
  
They rode a ways out of the city to a deserted area. There were more giant boulders out here. Sandor rode up and started lining up the bottles on top of one of the rocks.  
  
He returned to her and handed her the gun. She felt the weight of it in her palm.   
  
“Okay little bird. This is a six shooter, which means the cylinder has six chambers that can hold six bullets.”   
  
He grabbed her hand and turned it, so the left side of the gun was visible.  
  
“This is how you open the cylinder.” He moved her thumb on the latch to the side of the cylinder.

 

“You always rotate the cylinder to make sure there are no rounds still in there.” After rotating, he then pushed the cylinder out with two fingers.  
  
She inspected the gun further, looking at the six chambers. Sandor opened his coat pocket and withdrew some shiny copper rounds. He placed the rounds in her open hand.  
  
“And this is how you load the gun.” Taking her hand that held the gun he pointed it down and slipped one round in a chamber. She swiftly filled the rest.  
  
Then she closed the cylinder and Sandor showed her how to lock it.  
  
Sandor then turned her body so she was facing the bottles. Standing behind her he wedged her feet further apart. He then lifted her arm with the revolver out in front of her, picking up her other arm as well. Her left hand he made grip her right wrist.  
  
“Now little bird, do you see the hammer?”  
  
She shook her head no. The proximity of his body was making her sweat.  
  
“It’s the piece at the top of the barrel, nearest your thumb.” He murmured in her ear. She found it and placed her thumb on it.

“Exactly! Okay, now you’re going to want to cock it back. It might be a little tough.”  
  
With all her strength she cocked it back.  
  
“Now you are ready to fire. You want to line up the rear sight with the front sight. They are the prongs on both ends of the barrel.”   
  
Sandor stepped back.  
  
“Take a deep breath and focus. Breathe out and gently squeeze the trigger when you’re ready. Aim small, miss small little bird.”  
  
“What does that even mean?” She asked.  
  
“It means instead of just trying to hit the object, focus on a fixed point. If you aim at something small, you’ll only miss small. Whereas if you are just trying to hit the object all together, you can miss completely.”  
  
She was looking down the barrel at a glass Coke bottle. _I’m going to aim for the ‘C.’_ Sansa filled her lungs and took aim. Breathing out she pulled the trigger. The gun fired and her body was jerked back a bit. Sandor was there to steady her. She didn’t even realize the bottle had broken until she heard Sandor shouting.  
  
“Fucking beautiful little bird! You’re a natural!”   
  
Sansa was so happy she flung herself into Sandor’s arms. 

“Be mindful of the weapon!” He warned her.  
  
She took a step back, blushing. “Sorry.” She placed the revolver on the ground.  
  
Seeking her permission, he stepped forward with his arms out. She smiled and Sandor gathered her in his arms and spun them round and round in a fit of laughter. Still laughing together, he set her down carefully.  
  
“If you can hit the rest of those bottles, I’ll split the first bounty with you 50/50.” Sandor challenged.  
  
Sansa flashed him a toothy grin.   
  
“You’re on.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! My classes are almost done (thank the gods!) Mature content near the end. Enjoy~

**Sandor:  1 month later**  
  
Sandor eyed the tattered poster that he had clutched in his left hand.  
  
"Well little bird, does that look like Edwin Booth wanted rapist scum and thug?"  
  
They were both lying on their stomachs in the yellowed brittle grass of the outcrop they were perched on.  
  
Sansa held a pair of binoculars to her eyes, focusing intently on the man plowing his field below. Sandor had been surprised when she had taken her winnings from their bet and bought those binoculars. That was almost an entire month ago. Since then they had been steadily climbing their way north, collecting a few minor bounties along the route. They were currently holed up in a sketchy inn on the border of Mexico and New Mexico; the new bloody state that was very much still Mexico.  
  
"We've got a match." She grinned at him.  
  
At that Sandor reached around to draw his pistol from the confines of his holster.  
  
Sansa reached out and steadied his searching hand.   
  
"What are you doing?" She questioned, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Well, you see- I'm going to take this gun and shoot that man square in the head. After that-" His sarcastic rant was cut short with a nudge to the ribs. The girl was plainly no longer terrified of him. _Great._  
  
"No, I mean- why are you going to shoot him? The poster clearly says the bounty is higher if you bring him back _alive_."   
  
"It's just easier this way girl."  
  
"Can we please try something, I have an idea!" Sansa pleaded, her clear blue eyes awaiting his answer.  
  
Sandor sighed deeply.   
  
"Okay little bird, let's hear this brilliant idea."  
_____________________________________________________  
  
Both Sansa and Sandor lead their steeds down the rocky terrain, after having looped around the back of Edwin Booth's property.  
  
Sansa's plan was for her to approach the man feigning to be a maiden who got lost on her journey to visit her dear friend. While talking Booth up, she devised that Sandor come up from behind on foot and smack him over the head.  
  
He couldn't see how this could possibly work. It sounded like something she saw in a ridiculously cheesy play. But he was going along with it because he still had his pistol.  
  
They made it to the back of Booth's rectangular cabin. Sansa turned to him, giving him a nod then a wink. _God be damned, she'll be the death of me._  
  
Sandor dismounted and clung to the side of the hovel. He watched as Sansa slowly rode out of the protection of the cabin's shadow. Her face a cool mask.  
  
He heard Sansa call out to Booth who still had his back to her, "Excuse me good sir!"  
  
Booth whipped his around at an alarming speed, eyes wide with shock.  
  
"What do you want?" He croaked. Sandor could see the man was dressed in rags, saturated in sweat from his hours of plowing.  
  
"I'm very sorry sir, but I believe I went horribly off course on the way to visit my dear friend's sick bed. Can you please tell me where I am?" Sansa's voice was as smooth as silk and as sweet as dulce de leche (a new favorite of hers of course.) She really seemed to be laying on the innocence.   
  
Booth eyed her warily, but his demeanor lightened once Sansa looked down in a show of shyness.  
  
"You're in Goose Creek. Where are you headed?" Booth asked, stepping closer to Sansa and her horse.  
  
Sandor paced even closer, noticing Sansa flinch when the man stepped towards her.  
  
"My friend resides in M-Mayberry, is it f-far from here?" Sansa stumbled on the words as Booth was now an arm's length from her.   
  
"Yes my lady, Mayberry is over 20 miles away." Sandor saw him brush his hand against her calf and grab hold. "So tell me, what are you really doing out here? Are you really that much of a stupid bitch you're 20 miles off of your destination."  
  
Sansa quickly searched out to the spot Sandor had concealed himself in. The spot was empty. He was currently behind the man's plow horse, moving once the devious intent in Booth's face betrayed his subdued actions.   
  
As Sansa was paralyzed- her mouth agape; seemingly searching for the right answer to the shithead's question. Sandor took the opportunity while the man was preoccupied to close in on him.  
  
Thankfully Sansa made no notice to his presence. He took the butt of his pistol and cracked the man in the back of his skull. He went down like an anchor.  
  
Sansa let out a loud breath.   
  
"That was too close for my liking." Sansa said as she slouched down in her saddle.  
  
"Do I have to remind you whose idea this was?" He laughed. "Either way, you did well little bird."  
  
"Now let's tie this son of a whore up and drop him off at the jailhouse."   
  
"I'll get his feet." Sansa smiled at him as she fished the rope out of her saddlebag.  
  
__________________________________________________________  
  
They returned to the inn just as the last rays of the sun’s light warmed the earth. It had been a long day, but after signing a few papers they were 800 dollars richer.  
  
Sandor took a seat at the inn's wooded bar, polished by the years of patrons no doubt.  
  
"Two tequilas. And a root beer for the girl." Sandor barked at the grizzled man behind the bar.  
  
The bartender sloppily filled two shot glasses with the clear liquid, getting more on the bar then in the glass. He then placed a bowl of salt and both lemon and lime slices in front of Sandor.  
  
Sandor licked the back of his hand and covered the wet spot with salt. Then after licking the salt off, he threw back the shot and took a lime to suck on. _Ha, the only burning sensation I'll ever endure willingly._  
  
"Can I try that?" Sandor shifted so he could see the look on Sansa's face.  
  
"Have you ever had liquor before little bird?" He couldn't picture the little lady touching anything stronger than a glass of champagne.  
  
"Once my father let me have a sip of his blackberry brandy..."   
  
"Be my guest little bird," Sandor bellowed. He pushed his remaining shot towards her.   
  
"So I put the salt on my hand? Drink and then suck on the fruit?"   
  
"Aye, that's pretty much it," he replied.  
  
Sandor watched as she poked her pink tongue out to wet her hand and apply the salt. Sansa had both elbows planted on the bar with her sleeves rolled up. She hesitantly picked up the small glass, inspecting the clear liquid further. She licked off the salt and in the next instant she threw the tequila back.  
  
The sound of her sputtering and coughing filled the room as she tried to suck on a lemon while also sucking on air.   
  
Sandor's whole body shook with laughter as he clapped the still coughing girl on her back. After she regained some air in her lungs she turned to him red faced.  
  
"That burned! Why do people drink this stuff?"   
  
"It's an acquired taste. But people drink when they're happy. Or depressed. I drink to forget mostly." She gave him a look that he could only categorize as pity.   
  
"I'm not looking for your pity girl, I just merely answered your question." He scoffed at her loudly.  
  
She swiftly bowed her head. Just then a few men entered the inn chatting boisterously. They soon took notice of Sansa and sent a few large grins her way. Boiling Sandor's blood and shortening his fuse. The three men took to a table in the corner, sliding out the chairs noisily.  
  
Sandor tried to strain his ears, hoping to catch any bit of their conversation.  
  
"Heeyyy! You two at the bar, come join usss for some drinks!" A man in head to toe black hollered. Or slurred.  
  
The little bird gave Sandor a fiery look, obviously annoyed by his previous outburst. She stood up and walked over towards the crew, not glancing back.  
  
 _Well I'm not letting her near those buggering leeches alone. At least I'll get some free booze._ He jumped up, nearly sending his stool flying and stomped to the table.  
  
It wasn't often when Sandor came across people who didn't flinch at the sight of him. If not his scars, then his towering height. But these men were clearly already in their drink. Seven sheets to the wind.  
  
Sansa sat next to one in a multi colored poncho, which in actuality looked like a dress. His dirty long brown hair was pulled back on his neck. On her other side was a young man with hair as red as hers, but his face was covered in freckles. Sandor pushed his way between the freckled lad and Sansa.   
  
"Anthony! A round of whiskey for the taaable! And a whiskey sour for the lady!” The one clad in all black shouted, extending his pointer finger in the air.  
  
"What are you buffoons celebrating exactly?" Sandor growled. He felt the little bird kick his shin and he shot her look.  
  
"Needs we a reason to drink and be merry?" The ponchoed moron muttered.  
  
"No there never has to be a reason for being merry," Sansa cooed. _What bullshit_.  
  
"You are right my la- I'm sorry," the man in black laughed, "What are your names? My name is Jacob. That gangly young boy is Caleb- but we call him Red. And that derelict in the colorful garb is Zachariah." Jacob babbled as he distributed the drinks across the table.  
  
 _I'm not telling these fuckheads my name._  
  
"Nice to make your acquaintance. My name is Laila and this sullen, slightly rude fellow is Bryan.” Sansa responded. _Well at least the little bird didn't give them our true names._  
  
“I must thank you for the drink, but I'm not a huge consumer of alcohol. What is a whiskey sour?"   
  
"A whiskey sour is just a whiskey with some sugar and lemon," Zachariah answered.  
  
"I do love lemon!" Sansa raved.  
  
She picked up her cold glass, sniffing it and then taking a testing sip. She smacked her lips together in apparent satisfaction. The sound brought all eyes to her, but she was busy chugging the rest of that drink. When she looked up to find an audience her cheeks were flushed with color.   
  
"I'm sorry, this heat is brutal and that was refreshing." Sansa said bashfully.  
  
"Oh no need for apologies Laila. I'll order more.” Jacob asserted reaching for her hand. Sandor downed his whiskey in disgust. Then pointed at his empty tumbler.   
  
The next hour or so passed with lots of drink and laughing on the group’s part. Sansa seemed to appreciate the conversation as she was laughing along with the pinheads. Though she was way past inebriated. Sandor just sat brooding; the alcohol wasn’t even numbing his overwhelming need to choke someone.  
  
"Anyone up for a game of five finger fillet?" Jacob shrieked. He unsheathed a short dagger and placed it on the table. Where Red quickly snatched it up.  
  
"I'm up first! We know Zachariah is still healing from his last screw up." He chuckled. Which earned him a middle finger.  
  
Sandor was already aware of the "game." _They really are fucking idiots_.  
  
Red spread his hand out in front of him and slowly started stabbing the knife into the table between fingers. The tap, tap, tap of the knife grew faster and faster.   
  
A few people had started chanting, "Chop-Chop-Chop-Chop-Chop!" As Red was now drawing a crowd.   
  
Sandor turned to assess Sansa's reaction and saw her staring captivated.  
  
Then suddenly the tapping ceased as he embedded the knife into the table. The room was silent again. Red lifted his hand to everyone. And the room broke out in cheers. He came out unscathed.  
  
Sansa looked like the picture of beauty as she stood and clapped with a wide toothy grin. Swaying with drink.  
  
"I want to try!" She cried grasping for the knife.  
  
"Oh no you don't." Sandor grumbled. He pulled her away from the table, hoisting her up by her waist. "You need to go to bed little bird."  
  
Sandor was carrying her towards their room when she screamed out, "Goodnight Jacob, Red and Zachariah! Thank you!"  
  
He laughed to himself. _Drunk and still courteous.  
_  
Once inside their room he placed her down on her bed. She looked down quizzically at her leather bound feet.  
  
“Sandooooorrr, can you please assist me? The laces in my boots seem to be wiggling.” She was all child-like giggles.  
  
 _I didn’t sign up for this._  
  
“Pleeeease?”   
  
“Damn it girl!” He trudged to her side of the room, kneeled down on the floor and started roughly unlacing her left boot.  
  
As he started unlacing her right boot, she started gradually rubbing his thigh with her left foot. Sandor froze immediately. She was getting dangerously close to his cock. He snatched the offending foot in his giant hand.  
  
“What precisely are you playing at?” He snarled.  
  
With deft speed the girl deposited herself on his lap.  
  
“Who said I’m playing?” She whispered in his good ear. He felt her lick his ear then she proceeded to leave open mouthed kisses down his throat. He was completely mesmerized by her actions. Sandor let out an animalistic growl.   
  
He grabbed her face in both his hands; her eyes were darkened with lust. They sat there staring. Sandor barely had time to think before her lips were upon him.

It was nothing sweet or chaste that he’d expect from a woman of her social station. The kiss was rough and passionate. He felt her tongue probing his lips, seeking entrance. 

His hands were everywhere. Running down her sides, brushing over her breasts. Until finally they landed on her firm ass where he molded them there. Her moan filled the otherwise quiet room when her woman’s place came in contact with his hardened cock. Suddenly her hands were fumbling for the laces on his breeches.   
  
And all at once it was like his brain finally kicked back into gear.   
  
_The little bird is piss drunk._  
  
Gently he lifted her back onto her bed and then went to his bed. Ignoring the throbbing in his cock.  
  
She was obviously flabbergasted.   
  
“W-why do you push everyone away? I don’t fall for the ‘big tough guy’ act anymore you know.” She hiccupped.   
  
“You’re drunk little bird.”  
  
“As are you!”

“I’m not nearly as ossified as you! Now go to sleep girl.”  
  
Sandor kicked off his boots, not even bothering to strip down and rolled over in his bed- away from Sansa’s eyes.  
  
After some time he heard her let out a deep undignified grunt and she threw herself down on her bed.  
  
 _I need to get this girl north. Before this farce goes any further._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classes are done! So now I can work on my story without feeling guilty!
> 
> Note: The song lyrics aren't mine. It's an actual song called "A Bird in a Gilded Cage" by Arthur J. Lamb & Harry Von Tilzer!

**Sansa**

 

Sansa became mildly aware of the raspy voice bouncing off the confines of her mind. She forcefully scrunched up her eyes, attempting to ward off the evasive light trying to pry open her skull. As she rolled over, taking the rough spun blanket with her, the modest contents of her stomach swayed.

 

She let out an audible groan.

 

“Here little bird, drink." Sandor set the mug down on their shared bedside table with a resounding "thud." Making her groan again.

 

“Do you mind? You're so very loud!"

 

“This is what happens when one drinks their weight in alcohol." Sandor chuckled.

 

"I'll be downstairs eating breakfast. Gather your things when the pounding in that pretty little head of yours subsides a bit. We've got to move on."

 

Sansa laid in bed, eyes closed, willing the sickly feeling away. She heard the door gently click shut, signifying Sandor's exit. She figured she may as well get on with her day; Sansa knew Sandor didn't like staying at one place for prolonged periods of time.

 

She threw one leg from the bed, after garnering all her power she threw out the other. For a few moments she stayed in that awkward half-on half-off the bed position. Finally, she sat up; apparently much too fast because her head was swimming.

 

"Ughhh, how much did I drink?" She reached for the mug Sandor had set out for her, bringing the liquid to her parched lips she drank deeply. Sansa felt her stomach lurch once again. That's when she looked down at her stockinged feet. _I don't even remember taking my boots off._ She realized she didn't exactly remember getting back to their room either.

 

The last thing she remembered was Red playing that knife game. _What was it, "five finger fillet?"_

 

"OH GOD." She exclaimed as the night's events came back to her. Sandor had carried her up to the room after she had drunkenly volunteered her hand at the next game.  That wasn't the worst part though. She remembered how her boots came to leave her feet. And what she did with those feet. And her mouth.

 

"OH GOD!" She screeched again, throwing her arm over her eyes.

 

All that alcohol had given her the courage, _or stupidity_ , to act on the impulses she had been feeling for awhile. They had been getting on quite well she thought. Sandor rarely grumbled at her the past month for being a “stupid little bird;” he even went as far as listening to her input on important matters. Sansa wasn’t naïve anymore; she had noticed Sandor’s heady looks towards her when he thought her otherwise preoccupied.

 

There was an undeniable attraction between them.

 

_Should I act like nothing happened last night? No. He hates liars. This is going to be dreadful._

 

She gathered her meager possessions. Well, quite a few more than she had started with. The few dresses from Allen. The binoculars she purchased with the money she won from Sandor. And her revolver. She gave their room a once over before closing the door on this part of their journey. She rounded down the stairs and saw that Sandor had presumably finished breakfast already.

 

Taking a deep breath, she mustered up her words of apology and turned to greet him.

 

“Sandor, I um, must say... I am extremely sorry for my conduct last night... I’m honestly abashed by the way I handled myself.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with my fair share of drunken people, myself included.”

 

“No… really. I should not have, uh…”

 

“You should not have what? Rubbed my cock? Probably not.”

 

Sansa’s whole body became inflamed and her heart leapt into her throat. She must have been a sight in that moment; standing there looking like a wave of crimson had washed over her. Mouth agape. He was as crude and straight to the point as ever.

 

“You should close your mouth unless you intend to catch some of these barflies. You do have a sweet trap there.” He smirked at her; and with that he left her there, motionless, to go saddle the horses.

 

Sansa grabbed some honeyed bread that would suffice as her meal; she figured it was the most her queasy stomach could take. She then followed Sandor’s quick steps into the stables. They both tackled the few possessions they had to their name to the horses; she had grown used to this part of their campaign. She even relished in the normality of the action.

 

They were able to ride in comfortable companionship. Sometimes they’d share stories of their lives. Sansa would always talk about Winterfell and her family. He’d laugh at times or offer her solace when she would rehash a particularly depressing memory. She noticed he never talked of family; he never had since that first day when he shared that story about his brother. But Sansa enjoyed hearing about his travels all over North and South America.

 

The scattered dwellings became spaced further and further apart as they rode out of the small hamlet- until finally it was naught but her and Sandor. Sansa was unsure how long they had trodden along the beaten path that was carved in the landscape. The clouds were overcast in the sky, creating a shield for the usually harsh sun.

 

Sansa felt a slight breeze waft through her hair, trailing it's cool breath against her neck. Soon the skies would open up and cleanse the dry and cracked Earth. Sansa's eyes drifted closed, she could smell the oncoming storm in the air. Her eyes darted open as she heard a familiar tune.

 

_She's only a bird in a gilded cage,_

_A beautiful sight to see,_

_You may think she's happy and free from care,_

_She's not, though she seems to be._

 

Sandor was quietly singing. Sansa had heard the song before. She started the next refrain, startling Sandor out of his trance.

 

_For youth cannot mate with age,_

_And her beauty was sold,_

_For an old man's gold,_

_She's a bird in a gilded cage._

 

“Is this the little bird's beckoning call?” Sandor asked.

 

“I may be a little bird, but I left my gilded cage ages ago.” Sansa answered with a smile.

 

“I guess you did. You flew the fucking coop, but were caught by the dog!” He laughed. The corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth.

 

Sansa rolled her eyes and shook her head.

 

Just then she felt a tiny raindrop on her cheek. In a matter of seconds the rain culminated and became torrential.

 

Sandor let out an annoyed wail. Now it was Sansa's turn to laugh. She held open her arms to welcome the rain.

 

“You're a crazy bird! Here let’s keep going, I spot an overhang ahead. Night is about on us anyway.”

 

They led their horses up the slight incline. Sansa watched as the collected water raced down the lands in a tapered trail.

 

As Sandor had said, there was an overhang just big enough for them to squeeze under. They dismounted from Stranger and Sugar, the name she had given her sweet mare, and unpacked a couple things. Thankfully both Stranger and Sugar seemed unperturbed by the sudden down pour.

 

Sansa made to rush under the overhang with their food items as Sandor unsaddled the horses.

 

When he finally joined her they were both drenched. He handed her one of the blankets, which was only partially damp.

 

She set to unfold it, her teeth chattering fiercely. Sandor kept his distance. _He is probably embarrassed for me, perhaps he thinks me some slattern._

 

Sansa scooted closer to him, taking the blanket with her. He turned to scowl at her, and tried inching away. _Oh this is how it's going to be?_ She just followed once again.

 

“What are you doing girl?" He shouted exasperated.

 

“I'm freezing, there is nothing to make a fire, so the least you can do is let me sit near you to keep me from icing over!"

 

He growled and pulled her towards him, throwing his arm around her so she was nestled in his side. Sansa was right, he was so very warm. She sat there with her knees under her chin, watching the rain come down. If she had been told months ago she would be traveling the desert with an ill-tempered man collecting bounties she would have laughed and said they had the wrong Stark girl. Though she definitely couldn't wait to return home, the weeks she had spent technically on the run she wouldn't trade for anything. Sansa had learned so much. She learned she wasn't anyone’s property. She learned she had strength, she could adapt to what the world hurled at her. She had pleasantly surprised herself the past few weeks. And she knew some of that was due to Sandor.

 

Absentmindedly, she started tracing the crevices on Sandor's leather vest. The soft patter of the rain served as a natural relaxant. He grabbed the offending hand, which snapped her back to reality.

 

“Don't."

 

Sansa focused her eyes on his, and gave him a look of rebellion. Relinquishing her hand from his grasp she raised it to the burned side of his face. Stroking it tenderly. She knew it was a bold move. He could break her hands without a second thought. But she knew he would never.

 

She leaned over and placed her other hand on his opposite cheek. Without much forethought she brought her face close to his, she could feel his breath against her lips. Her eyes bore into the grey depths in front of her.

 

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, she softly pressed her lips to his. He stayed unyielding. She pulled back to gauge his reaction and she took in his pained expression. She could sense the inner turmoil erupting in his psyche.

 

“I don't know what you want from me little bird. I'm not a good man. This can only end badly. For both of us."

 

“I just want the chance. You call yourself a bad man but I don't see it. Are you loud and sometimes rude? Yes. Do you have an aptitude for drinking a tad too much? Yeah. But you're honest. You're brave and strong. This is my choice. And I'm gladly choosing you. _Please._ ”

 

Sandor seemed to be digesting her words. Sansa sighed. _He can be so stubborn._

 

“Just ki-” Her demand was cut short as he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her, confidently. There was no longer any hesitation present. She knew she had kissed him last night, but without the alcohol dulling her frame of mind this experience was wholly different. It was exhilarating. Sansa had never felt this before, not even before she knew about Joffrey’s true nature.

 

She climbed onto Sandor’s lap and threw her arms around his shoulders. He responded by tightening his arms around her slim waist.

 

She opened her mouth and brushed her tongue along his bottom lip seeking access. Flipping them so that Sansa was on her back with Sandor hovering over her, their kiss reached a level of desperation. As if this was their only time to get out all the tension that had built up. Their frenzied pace was accelerated further when Sansa started pulling at his tunic. Knowing what she wanted, he broke away to strip it off. She had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but right now the sight of his chiseled chest was increasing the strange pressure in her abdomen.

 

Sansa sat up, confusing Sandor, and started unfastening her wet dress. As she shrugged off the sleeves of her dress she also tugged off her shift- she no longer worn a corset since she had no one to lace her up anymore. She brushed her hair to one side, leaving her exposed. The cool air made her skin break out in goosebumps.

 

Her actions momentarily stilled Sandor; she wondered if he was rethinking everything.

 

Instead he crushed her to his imposing form, burying his face at the juncture of her throat. Sansa threw her head back, giving Sandor better access. He licked and nipped, and then sucked- marking her. Sansa squirmed in his lap, seeking any friction to relieve the persistent ache she felt. Much like the previous night, she came in contact with Sandor’s arousal. She experimentally rocked her hips forward.

 

Sansa’s gasp was drowned out as a crack of thunder boomed through the desolate lands, and lightening lit up the navy blue sky.

 

Stranger and Sugar nickered wildly, stomping their hooves into the moist ground.

 

“What do we have here? Is this some make-shift whorehouse?” A curt voice called out.

 

Sandor jumped up, pushing Sansa behind him. She fumbled to re-cloth her upper half. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the scene, granting both parties a more detailed view of each other.

 

That's when Sansa caught it. The man had a three headed dog sewn on his jacket. Her heart sank as she recalled Bran’s words of warning.

 

“Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't my dearest baby brother! And it looks like he found some gutter slut to suck his cock!”

 

Sansa became panicked. She could feel Sandor’s body tense with anger.

 

“What the fuck are you doing out here? Last I heard you were pillaging west Texas you swineherd.” Sandor spat.

 

“Now is that anyway to talk to your elders? Do I have to teach you another lesson? How about this- You give me a go with your red headed whore and I'll let you keep a few teeth?”

 

“Go. To. Hell.”

 

Sandor lunged at his brother, knocking them both to the ground. Sansa heard a crack as Sandor’s fist connected with Gregor's jaw. She didn't know what to do, she felt helpless all over again.

 

Right before her eyes was a struggle for dominance, one that would end in someone’s death. She thought Sandor was large, but his brother was even larger.

 

Sandor had Gregor in a chokehold. Sansa could hear the man struggling for air. A well landed kick to Sandor’s back loosened his hold on him. Gregor was now standing as Sandor was doubled over. The freakishly large man aimed another kick to Sandor’s side, but he rolled away just in time.

 

He clambered to his feet and drew his pistol as Gregor drew his gun as well. They both stood in a standoff. Sandor cocked his weapon and pulled the trigger. Nothing.

 

“Forgot to load did you? You really are a worthless fucking moron. This should be fun.” He laughed as he fired a round in Sandor’s thigh. He instantly fell over, groaning. Gregor advanced upon him with a sadistic grin.

 

With shaking hands Sansa searched for her revolver, which she knew was still loaded. She felt the cold metal against her finger tips and grasped it.

 

Seemingly forgotten for the time being, Sansa moved swiftly coming up behind Gregor.

 

She cocked her revolver and fired. The bullet entered the man’s skull. His life was forfeited immediately. Gregor’s eyes were glossed over in death.

 

The realization of what just occurred slammed into Sansa. She got down on her knees and threw up. She had never killed anyone. Her erratic breathing started to make her dizzy.

 

“Shit!” Sansa looked up to see Sandor clumsily trying to create a tourniquet for his leg.

 

She got up and ran to him.

 

“What do I do? Oh god. There is a lot of blood!” She cried reaching for his face.

 

“Little bird, it doesn't look... promising.” He breathed out calmly. Already weary from the blood loss.

 

“No, no don't say that! I can do something! Just tell me what!” Sansa screamed as tears flooded her eyes.

 

Sandor just stared at her, unresponsiveness aglow in his eyes.

 

“Sandor! Answer me!” She shook him violently.

 

“Sansa...”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t kill me!

Sandor

Everything was heavy. His arms. His legs. Even his eyelids. He felt like there was an anchor strapped to his back as he tried to paddle helplessly to the surface of this everlasting darkness. Using all his strength he tried to propel himself upwards. But he made no progress. Resigning himself to this sure fire purgatory, he opened his mouth to scream but he found his jaw was welded shut.

That's when he heard it. That sweet cadence he had grown so used to. That voice that had sent him off to sleep and had roused him in the morning. Right now it was that voice pulling him from the depths of what he could only guess was death. His little bird's sorrow filled melody was meant to haunt him for eternity.

_I should be dead. That fucking bastard Gregor wanted me to bleed out like a pig._

Again Sandor felt her voice tug at him. Bringing him ever closer. Closer to what?

The blackness around him started to dissolve into a vivid purple until it faded to a dull yellow. The heaviness he felt was slowly dissipating as the singing grew louder. No longer water logged.

_Birds are singing far and near, Roses blooming everywhere.  
You, alone, my heart can cheer; You, just you._

Sandor's eyes fluttered open to a room awash in dim candle light. His vision was foggy, but he could make out a figure huddled near him, their head resting near his feet. He knew right away it was the little bird. She was singing softly, her eyes resting shut.

_Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you._

“Sansa..." His voice sounded much hoarser than usual, and it felt like he had swallowed sandpaper.

Sansa shot up, throwing her chair backwards.

“Sandor! You're awake!" Her high pitched wail delivering him further into reality. She grabbed his face in her hands and placed a small kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, his nose and then finally his lips. Her eyes brimming with tears.

“I was so frightened. We weren't sure... It was a terribly difficult situation. I thought I had lost you for sure.” Sansa took his hand in both of hers, stroking it tenderly.

“So I'm guessing this isn't Heaven? Otherwise you wouldn't be talking so fucking odd. And you'd be wearing fewer clothes.”

Sansa’s face crinkled with laughter.

“Oh I have missed that crudeness! No you are not dead. It's a long story. Dreadfully long. But a true miracle I must say.”

A knock rang throughout the room and Sandor’s eyes shot to Sansa, wordlessly inquiring as to who could be at the door.

“Oh no worries. It's just the Elder Brother.”

Before he could even ask whom, a tall man ducked through the doorway dressed in dusty black robes. His starch white collar a beacon to Sandor’s complete lack of faith.

“I'm at a fucking Catholic mission?!” He asked incredulously.

“Sandor!” Sansa gasped.

“Oh it’s quite alright Miss Stark; I don’t mind his rough countenance. I was a lot like him before I became a man of the faith.”

_I very highly doubt that old man._

The Elder Brother moved to occupy the wooden chair that had been vacated the moment Sansa realized he had woken.

“Sandor you’ve an extremely fortunate fellow. That bullet narrowly missed your femoral artery. You would have bled out in seconds. Thankfully Miss Stark finished tying off the wound and rode nearly two miles before coming upon this mission!”

“Please Elder Brother, call me Sansa.” Elder Brother nodded and gave her a warm smile.

Sandor turned to look at Sansa, but her gaze met the floor as her faced became a rosy hue. _I can’t believe this is the same girl— woman— I found months ago._

“Hell little bird, I guess we’re even now.” He smirked at her. He had saved her from that fucking son of a bitch Allen and she had saved him from his monster of a brother. _Fucking hell… The little bird killed Gregor._   
  
Sandor thought he would feel robbed; after all, the idea of giving Gregor the slow tortuous death he deserved is what motivated him. It was his unhealthy obsession. But now that is was gone the thought didn’t bother him much. _I'm just fucking happy the bird came out unscathed._

Suddenly feeling cagey Sandor tried swinging his body out of the bed. His muscles were not complying. Everything felt stiff and like lead weights had replaced his limbs. _What the fuck?!_

Elder Brother moved to help Sandor sit on the edge of the bed, much to Sandor’s dismay.

“Mr. Clegane, you must take it easy.”

“And why should I do that? We need to get out of here, only way that is going to happen is if I get my ass out of this bed!”

“Sandor, he’s right. You’ve been unconscious for a week! You lost a lot of blood and had a terrible fever!”

“A week?!” He threw the blanket from his lap and noticed he was clad only in his undergarments. His right thigh was bandaged tightly in fresh gauze.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Elder Brother left the room. Sansa came and sat next to Sandor. She took his big hand in her dainty one. He needed to ask her about Gregor, killing for the first time did things to a person. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject though. Right now he was content absorbing the little bird’s warmth.

“I found this in your breast pocket…” Sansa said breaking the silence. Her other hand not currently holding his held a square piece of paper. On closer inspection in was a picture. He took the picture from her and was confronted with a bittersweet face. A constant reminder of the only love he ever felt and the complete body encompassing hate that consumed him when she was taken away.

His body must have tensed and betrayed the emotions he tried to keep locked up.

“Who is she?” Sansa questioned cautiously.

Sandor took in the girl in the photograph’s familiar features and let out a deep breath.

“She is my sister, Alana. Well was.”

“What happened to her?”

“What do you think happened to her? Gregor happened to her!" He shouted. Silence filled the room again.

“After Gregor burned me she would come into my sick bed and sing to me. Or read to me. Sometimes the classic fairytales where the Prince would save the Princess and other times she’d just make up a story of far off planets and heroic explorers. She always tried to keep Gregor away. He hated that. Anything I loved he automatically hated and needed to destroy. Starting with my pup Scout. Until eventually it was her. One day I woke up, and she wasn't there to greet me with the usual ’Good morning Sandy! It's a beautiful day don't you think?’ Instead it was my father who came in and said ’Your sister had an accident.’ I knew then it was no more accident than my bedding _catching fire._ Gregor was sent away to a military school shortly after. I ran away when I was twelve. I couldn't stay in that house any longer. Too many ghosts.”

Sandor never talked about his sister. Well he never really talked to anyone. Sansa has been the first person to confidently break through his defenses.

He lifted his head up to see Sansa crying. He swiped away an erratic tear.

“Sandor, I... I’m so sorry. I can't even imagine. My own siblings mean everything to me, I don't want to think of a world without them in it.”

“Hush little bird. It's all history.”

“I.. I killed him.” Sansa’s tear soaked gaze found his. “I killed a person. A human being. I should feel disgusted and shattered. Instead I feel nothing. Is there something wrong with me?”

Now it was Sandor who held her face in his hands.

“Look at me. There is nothing wrong with you. That is not who you are. Don't let that one action define you. If you do— it will drag you down and mold you. Gregor was a killer. It was be or be killed. I'm proud of you.”

“I've already talked to the Elder Brother about it. Repented. It just... I guess I feel guilty for not being an absolute wreck over it.”

“Well you've already handled your situation better than I did after my first time. I was 15 when I collected my first bounty. Shot the bastard full of holes. Not intentionally. I was just a terrible shot and was incapable of ending him with one bullet. I threw up afterwards. Then drank myself stupid for two weeks.”

Sansa carefully strung her slender arms around Sandor’s neck and gave him a tight hug. Sandor brought his arm up to caress the expanse of her back. Taking in her sweet scent. She pulled away just as Sandor was getting lost in the gentle swell of her body.

“I'm going to see what is for supper. You must be starved.” She wiped her face, and smoothed down her hair. The solemn expression she had worn was quickly replaced by one of sereneness. Her lips quirked into a full smile. With her back straight and shoulders set she exited the room with a quiet gracefulness.

Sandor felt a lightness. Not in the head, he wasn't dizzy to be sure. He felt like there was nothing to him but this overwhelming happiness that had overpowered his whole body. It radiated through him like light, feeling every shadowed crevice of his being. _All because of the little bird’s damn smile._

In that moment Sandor knew he could never go on without that smile.

* * *

“You're really going to do this? Even against all other wishes and words advising you otherwise?” Sansa huffed.

“You betcha girl! I'm not gonna ruin a good horse by letting him rot in a stable!”

It had been almost three weeks since Sandor was shot. The healing was slow going and arduous but he had been up and walking by the first week he gained consciousness. He had a noticeable limp but at least he still had his fucking leg. There was a sizable chunk of his thigh missing, where Elder Brother had to dig to find the bullet. Sandor was going stir crazy in this puny mission. He was sick of hearing those damn sheep muttering their prayers. He needed to take Stranger out, though the Elder Brother is still weary of his wound.

“There is nothing I can do to get you to stay?” Sansa asked lightheartedly.

“I think not little bird.” He chuckled making his way towards the door.

“Hmmm, that's too bad.” Sansa threw back.

Sandor eyed her suspiciously. She started slowly unbuttoning her dress, revealing a good amount of cleavage. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“What do you think you're doing girl?”

“Girl? It's always little bird or _girl._ I know you know my real name. You said it you know? Right before you passed out. I want to hear you say it again.”

Sansa approached him, bringing her nearly bare chest to his. Leaving no space between them. She had both of her hands lightly positioned on his chest. He could feel the heat her touch generated through his thin tunic, tremors racked his core.

“No more courtesies?” Sandor gawked.

She slid her hands to rest on his stony shoulders and brought her mouth to his ear. She gave a tentative lick.

“What was that for?”

“I'm a wolf. Now say my name.”

She started nipping the length of his throat and caressing his neck with her smooth fingertips. All the while grinding into his front, in an act of delicious torture.

“Sansa...” He groaned. Sandor grabbed her under her bottom and lifted her flush against him.

“There you go.”

He closed the door with a forceful backwards kick. With Sansa in his arms he turned them so Sansa had her back against the door.

Sandor pulled away from her sweet ministrations to try and measure her current intentions. Her beautiful red locks were tousled and her heart shaped face was flushed. But her eyes. They shone with a dangerous twinkle.

“What exactly did you have in mind to stop me from taking Stranger out?” He asked.

“Oh I don't know. I've been wanting to finish what we started out under that overhang before we were interrupted. But you haven't made a single move in any sort intimate matter since that first day you awoke.”

“Not because I haven't wanted to lit- Sansa, I've been fucking desperate to feel you beneath me. It's just, I thought maybe you had changed your mind about me. Especially after dealing with that waste of human skin brother of mine. I thought that mayb-”

Sansa reared up and pushed her lips to his in a harsh meeting of pure need and want. Effectively cutting him off. Sandor yielded to the exuberant take over. On instinct he deepened the kiss. Her tongue moving in tandem with his. Sansa weaved her fingers through his dark hair.

Sandor broke away from her mouth, their heavy pants filled the room. He began moving his lips down under her chin, down the long column of her throat. She twisted her hold on his hair, bringing him ever closer.

She was making the sweetest noises.

Everything about her was sweet. Her mouth. The taste of her skin. The feel of her soft hands. Her legs currently squeezing his hips. Her heart.

At that moment a single verse came to the forefront of his mind.

_“Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.”_

More importantly the voice he had heard singing that verse.

Suddenly curious he pulled away to question Sansa who looked none too thrilled about the pause. He brought her feet back to the floor.

“Sansa, were you singing- when I was waking up? Or was that some sort of fevered dream? Did I really hear what I think I heard?” His face shifted in confusion and nervous anticipation.  
  
Sansa locked eyes with him, comprehending exactly what he was asking.

“Sandor... I'm in love with you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry this chapter took so long to get to you! I had a lot of trouble with it because I’m terrible at smut (yes you read right.) I actually had the ending of this chapter written long before the middle haha. Well I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for sticking with me :D

Sansa  
  
“Wait a minute. You’re ’in love’ with me? How? How can you know that?” Sandor bellowed, stepping away from her.  
  
Sansa felt herself growing angry. She admits her feelings only to be questioned and treated like a child?  
  
“Sandor Clegane, what kind of woman do you think I am? The th-things I've done with you--” She sputtered. “Do you think I go around throwing myself at everyone I fancy in love? I was engaged! Even then I was never as _intimate_ with Joffrey as I have been with you!” Sansa was now shouting, not giving thought to the members of the mission who could no doubt hear the commotion.   
  
“You know I was raised to believe the only man whom I should ever lie with was my husband. But I've noticed that same belief isn't instilled in men! After what I've lived through, what I've seen, I've decided that is-is horse shit! I was to be trapped in a loveless marriage. Expected to just lie back as Joffrey used me at his will. Give him children. All of that without love! Just because of some piece of paper! Now, I believe in God, but I can't believe that is what he intended for me. I'm in charge of my own life from now on. I want to live happily, regardless of what society makes of my choices. And I'm sorry if you think me the type of person to just sleep around. I've come to learn there isn't anything wrong with that- but it's just not me. But I do love you. Whether you want to believe it or not. Like I told you under the overhang, this is my choice. And I'm gladly choosing you.” Sansa was sure her face was beet red, in anger or embarrassment about her rant, she knew not.  
  
“You said horse shit.” Sandor exclaimed, his jaw hung open.  
  
“Seriously, that's ALL you garnered from that whole speech?!”  
  
Sandor chuckled at that, infuriating her further.  
  
“Do you mock me, _sir?_ ” Sansa spat with more than an ounce of venom.  
  
Sandor approached her, his towering figure cornering her between him and the wall.   
  
“I wouldn't dream of it _little bird._ ” He raised his palm to cup her cheek. Her breathing coming ragged now.   
  
“Sansa, I'm not sure I know what it means to love. That word isn't a part of my vocabulary.” Sandor said morosely, his grey eyes awash with vulnerability.   
  
“I think you're a liar then.”  
  
“I'm no liar girl.” _Back to girl is it?_  
  
“Well then you're a coward. Because I've felt it. I think you're afraid. Big, scary, all bark Sandor is afraid to admit to a _girl_ what he feels?”   
  
“You're pushing it gi-”  
  
“Yes I know, girl. Girl, girl, girl. You were singing a different tune a minute ago. You brought up the song. I was only being honest with you. Apparently that was a mistake.”   
  
Sansa spun on her heel swiftly, buttoned up her top and headed towards the door. She needed to release her pent up anger and despair. Even though she had initially hoped to stop Sandor for going on a ride she decided she needed space.  
  
As she reached to give the rusted knob a turn, Sandor grabbed the sleeve of her dress.  
  
“Sansa, wait.” Sandor spoke with a hint of defeat. “I know that what I feel for you is beyond anything I've ever felt for anyone before. That I'd do anything to see you safe. To see that you're happy.”  
  
“You're what makes me happy. When you're not being an ass that is.” Sansa let out in a puff of exasperation. She flopped down against the door she had previously tried to make her escape out of.  
  
Sandor cautiously advanced, afraid he'd strike her ire even further. She laid her eyes upon him, drinking in his timid expression. A look she didn't think capable of a man such as Sandor Clegane. Not in the time she's known him at least. A man who seemed so sure of himself and being wholly manly. It was funny, and Sansa felt the anger drain from her body. She extended her hand out towards him.  
  
Without second thought he grasped her hand in his calloused one and pulled her upwards. Her arms becoming trapped between them, the hard planes of his chest feeling so warm beneath her fingertips.  
  
“You make me happy little bird. And you're right... I am a coward. Since that Inn in Mexico, when I taught you how to shoot and you flashed me that sincere smile, free of any fear or judgment... that's when I knew-- that I was in love with you.”  
  
Sansa felt the sting of unshed tears in her eyes, this time not in irritation. She met his gaze and saw the passion there, the unyielding truth in his grey eyes. Sansa stood on tip toes and hurriedly crushed her lips to his. Rough and forceful. Sandor quickly reacted, grabbed her hips and steered her towards the bed.  
  
Sansa’s arms were soon around his neck once again, she would never get enough of those powerful shoulders. The sweet stretch she felt in her arms when she embraced him.  
  
His tunic was in the way, she needed to feel the electricity that his tanned skin offered. She slid her hands down to the end of his shirt, gesturing to him what she wanted. She dipped her fingers under his tunic, running them up his chest and scrapping them back down. Sandor groaned into her mouth, pushing his tongue deeper against hers. Momentarily he broke from her to shed his top. The sight of his bare chest sent a strum of lust straight to her core.  
  
Sandor’s thumbs were brushing along her exposed collarbone, moving lower to sweep across the tops of her breasts. Sansa let out a soft moan, pushing her chest into his hands. Wanting to feel his hands totally engulf her. To be totally and utterly flooded with his desire.  
  
Apparently looking for the same, Sandor suddenly ripped the front of her dress open—shocking her and making her ache increase tenfold.  
  
As expertly as possible she removed her torn dress, stepping out of the fabric where it laid forgotten at her feet. She stood clad only in her undergarments, while Sandor still had on his breeches and boots.   
  
Next Sansa moved to his waist to undo the fastenings there, aware of his hardened member. Sandor just stared in fascination; as if he thought she may evaporate at any moment and be left a flaming mess of want. After successfully loosening the offending garment she slowly dropped to peel them down his strong legs. As she resurfaced she pushed her body flush with his, the fabric of their undergarments the only barrier to their skin to skin contact. Sansa thread her right leg with his. Sandor draped his arm around her waist, bringing her at a level so his cock was pressed to her womanhood. Their breaths were coming faster now, as both of their pleasures escalated.   
  
Sansa placed her hands in the dip of his lower back, but she then skimmed underneath his remaining clothes to cup his backside— making him shiver a bit.  
  
“Two can play that game.” He groaned as he proceeded to grip her bottom, falling to the bed with her entwined in his arms. Sandor made sure to fall to their sides, not wanting to smother her with his massive weight.  
  
Sansa sprawled out on her back, tugging at Sandor’s arm signaling him to resume their activities. She was lost in total bliss at the feel of his lips on hers. Sansa’s body and mind yielding entirely to Sandor's actions. She hoped her touch evoked the same reactions in him.  
  
Sandor hovered over the top of her, his elbows propped up on both sides of her head. He laid his forehead against hers; strands of his onyx colored hair tickled her face. She lifted her hand to gently run her fingers through it.   
  
The frenzied rush of seconds earlier plateaued, leaving ardor in its aftermath and a static cling in the atmosphere. Sandor seemed to be studying her, checking to see if her eyes would betray her real emotions. _Maybe he’ll see that I really want this... want him._  
  
“Sandor, this is-” Sandor for once, cut Sansa off with a fiery kiss. Rekindling their previous pace. Sansa melted into the bed as their lips massaged each other, the rhythm as natural as the incoming tides. Sandor then changed things up as he started moving south with his kisses. Sometimes using tongue and the occasional nibble. He dipped his tongue in the gentle slope of her stomach. Reaching ever lower to the part of her that was throbbing with untamed desire. As Sandor came face to face with her undergarments he looked up to her with a wicked smile.   
  
In one swift motion her garments were off and she was completely naked before him. She didn't have time to blush or feel any embarrassment though because the stir of Sandor’s hot breath on her inner thighs rendered her mind blank. He settled his head between her legs, nudging them further apart. It was then Sansa became aware of what he intended to do. _Surely he isn't..._  
  
Sansa gasped out loud as Sandor latched onto her womanhood. Using the flat of his tongue at first to give a lengthy lick. Sandor gripped her knees as she started squirming under his intense ministrations. He went back and forth between rotating the tip of his tongue and sucking- as he hit a particular spot Sansa could feel the tension in her midsection expand greatly. She needed to know where this led. All Sansa could do was fist the bedding beneath her as she felt all that pleasure quickly cultivating.  
  
It was then Sansa discovered what happened when you chased that ache. Her head thrown back and eyes scrunched shut she let out a wail as her body quaked with ultimate pleasure. The strong aftershock radiating throughout her body.   
  
She registered that Sandor had removed himself her legs, as now his body warmth hugged her chest again. Which was a great pleasure in and of itself. She kissed him deeply on the mouth. Sansa felt his hardened cock against her thigh and realized she had done nothing for him. _Well I'm not one for being selfish._  
  
Using her feet she pulled down his undergarments.  
  
“Now we’re even!” She smiled smugly, pushing up to meet his mouth. They both gasped as his cock slid against her. Her fire beginning to burn anew. She rocked her hips upwards, letting them meet again. Sandor let out a throaty groan.  
  
“Sansa, I have to take you now. Before the lack of blood causes brain damage. If you don't want this, tell me now.”  
  
Sansa bites at his lower lip. “Make me yours.”  
  
“It's going to hurt. Quickly or slowly?”  
  
“Quickly, maybe it wo- AAHHHHH!” Sansa cried out as Sandor, true to her choice, pushed his way inside. The air seemed to vanish from her lungs as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Sansa could feel nothing but the incredible fullness and pressure, and the tears rolling down her face.

 

She noticed that Sandor was frozen in place above her. Trying to determine her reaction and also giving her time to adjust. Sansa looked him in the eyes saw that he was tense— holding back. Her chest exuded the warmth that knowledge brought her. _He would never truly hurt me._  
  
After what felt like ages, she ran her fingers up and down his back.   
  
“Are you okay little bird?” Sandor choked out.  
  
“Yes, I'm more than okay.” Sansa moaned as she snapped her hips up to his. Taking that as his cue, Sandor grasped her hips and began to move. It was definitely painful, but the thought of Sandor admitting his love abated the pain. She could feel every facet of his love for her in this moment.  
  
Sansa gripped his shoulders as their tempo increased. Sandor groaned as he brought his hand up to cup her breast, causing Sansa to gasp at the added pleasure. She wasn't sure what she should do so she just kissed him. Her lips locked with his as he swung his arm under her and flipped them. Sansa became even more at odds at what to do as she sat astride Sandor.  
  
This new position sent resounding pangs of pain through Sansa’s womanhood, but they promptly settled. She gave her hips a tentative swivel, set on finding a rhythm. As she gyrated her pelvis, Sandor let out a huff. He was clutching the swell of her hips, sure to leave bruises. Emboldened by his reaction, she kept up her movements. She began to feel that fire rise within her yet again.  
  
“That’s it Sansa,” Sandor sighed as he helped her along. He ran the flat of his palms up to squeeze her breasts. She had her hands resting on his pecks; her fingers stroked the coarse hair she found there.  
  
Sandor’s cock was slipping in and out of her so easily now. Sansa enjoyed the slow torturous pace. Her nub was getting the delicious friction it craved. Sansa’s grinding started to falter as she toed the edge of her pleasure, coming closer to the inevitable drop. Sandor must have sensed as much because soon she was back on her back.  
 __  
Sandor nuzzled into her neck, breathing heavily. Tasting the salt of her flesh. She gripped his scalp as he began to thrust in earnest. Hitting something within her that made her see colors.  
  
“I want to hear you sing,” he panted. _What? My singing was what started this…_ She wanted to question his request but her voice burned out as the immense pleasure rolled through her body in languid waves— reaching a mighty crescendo in a hot burst of white.  
  
“Fuck!” Sandor all but shouted as his release roared through him. 

Somewhere in the haze she realized she had been chanting _“Sandor”_ as she lazily continued moving her hips. As her pleasure dissipated the soreness returned and she became acutely aware of the mess of bodily fluids between her thighs. She couldn’t find it in her to care, still floating weightless on cloud nine.  
  
Sandor slumped down next to her on the bed, curling her to him and placing a kiss on the top of her head. Sansa had never felt as contented as now laying in Sandor’s arms. No words needed to be said as the comfortable silence extended. She felt her eyelids growing heavy when she felt his chest rumble and his rasp.

“That was a beautiful song.”  
  
  
\----------------------------------———————-  
  
 **2 Days Later**  
  
“I can't believe how kind Elder Brother was to us. Not only letting us stay at the monastery for so long but giving us these train tickets? You don't come across many truly selfless people like him.” Sansa gushed as she unpacked her things from Sugar. Sugar and Stranger were accompanying them north as well. Sandor and Sansa were ushering the horses into the train car where they’d be stalled.   
  
“Selfless aye. Or maybe he didn't want to have to hear us fuck?” Sandor grinned as he gave Stranger a final pat. Sansa went instantly red at his words as they exited the train car. _Oh dear God._  
  
“Sandor!” She was hoping nothing of their time together was heard by anyone, but that was an optimistic wish. “God should strike us down for what we did under his roof! I can't believe... Oh heavens!” Sansa was totally flustered now. _What must Elder Brother think of me!_

“Not that I'm a believer or even follow the man’s work, but it was to my knowledge, that anywhere is “under God’s roof.” He laughed as he slung his arm around her waist, pulling her into an alcove of one of the station’s few ramshackle buildings. The station was pretty desolate, but there were still a few people milling about trying to kill some time before departure. 

Sansa was flattened against a sandy wall while Sandor loomed above her, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Does it count if there is no roof in question?” He asked causing Sansa to roll her eyes. He leaned down inch by inch until finally he was able to plant a full kiss on her lips. She opened her mouth without hesitation, deepening the kiss. Reveling in their new found openness. Sandor’s hands came around to cup her bottom, bringing her more at level with his lips. With her arms around his neck she was able to fully invest her passion in the meeting of their lips.

Sansa felt that tell tale sign of his unwavering desire for her pressing against her stomach. Which made her lust multiply. She decided she needed to break this kiss before it became an act of public indecency. 

  
“Sandor, I'm hungry.” She managed to squeak out.   
  


“God little bird, so am I.” He said as he continued to kiss down the column of her exposed neck. Almost giving into the exquisite pleasure, Sansa continued on.  
  


“I mean I'm hungry for food.”  
  


Sandor pulled back and laughed upon seeing Sansa’s flushed face. So obviously wanting to continue on with their antics but undoubtedly aware of their location.  
  


“Come on then, let’s go see if there is anything decent around here to eat.”  
  


As they left the alcove a small body slammed into them, falling to the ground.

  
“You should watch where you're fucking running!” Sandor growled as he offered his hand to the individual on the ground. Their face was obscured by a nest of dark brown hair.

  
“Maybe your big stupid face should watch where you're walking!” The person spat back, revealing them to be a girl. Maybe even a young woman.  
  
  
“...Arya?!”


	12. Chapter 12

**Arya**  
  
Another stupid man who can’t watch where they’re going! Arya quickly got back on her feet, ignoring the stranger’s hand, and brushed the dust off her breeches.  
  
“Maybe your big stupid face should watch where you're walking!” It was then Arya finally got a glimpse of the man. At the ridiculously tall man with a hideous scar. And a pistol strapped to his hip. _He doesn’t intimidate me_.  
  
“…Arya?!”  
  
Arya’s eyes snapped to the sound of her name being uttered in pure disbelief by a voice wholly familiar. A voice she was sure she’d never hear again, lost to the lions.  
  
“Sansa?”   
  
The air was knocked from her lungs as Sansa threw her arms around Arya, crushing their bodies together. Painfully. Arya was limp for a moment before returning the hug with equal or greater force. _My pack._  
  
“Arya, oh my word! I can’t believe it’s you! You’ve grown and what happened to your hair?” Sansa asked as she fingered some of her fly away brown locks.  
  
“Arya! When you shout “race” it would be ideal if you could also not dart off into a cro-“ a gasping Gendry sputtered. He looked between the two sisters, dumbfounded.  
  
“Laila?!” Gendry cried.  
  
“Extraordinary, you stupid bullheaded boy. I told you my sister’s name is Sansa moron.” At that, the large man beside Sansa chuckled.  
  
“Arya! You mustn’t call people such names. And Sandor don’t laugh,” came Sansa’s reprimand. _Well she’s not changed much._    
  
“Hello Gendry.” Sansa smiled.   
  
“Hang on, how do you know Gendry?” Arya asked her sister.  
  
“After I fled the Baratheon Ranch, I was taken to the Crossroads Inn. But there I went by Laila Evans, which is why Gendry looks a bit confused right now.”  
  
Arya saw that Gendry did indeed look confused. She met his eyes and gave him a little smirk which he returned. He knows she had been talking about reuniting with her family.  
  
“Okay, well I guess we all know each other now except for this giant bastard. Sansa, who is this man you’re with? And are you okay?” Arya grabbed her sister’s hands, concern etched her face as she went through the possible reasons her dainty and elegant sister could be with such a man. Her first thought was he had kidnapped her.  
  
“This is Sandor Clegane. He um- he is taking me north,” Sansa faltered and her face went into a deep red blush. Her hand went up to her neck, pulling her hair around her throat. Arya caught sight at the bruise she was trying to hide when a bell went off in her head.  
  
“Wait a second. Sandor Clegane? As in the Mountain’s brother?!”   
  
“How does a brat like you know my shitbag of a brother?” Sandor asked incredulously.  
  
“It’s a long story but the Brotherhood Without Banners ran into him,” she answered.  
  
“Holy hell! How do you know Dondarrion’s crew the Brotherhood Without Balls?!”  
  
“I’d rather deal with that drunkard Thoros then have another run in with the Mountain,” Arya stated.  
  
“Well that won't be a problem. The little bird here rid the world of that waste of skin.”  
  
Arya’s mouth hung open in a gesture of sheer shock. Assuming, little bird was to Sansa as stupid bullhead was to Gendry, Sansa had killed the Mountain? _Maybe she has changed._  
  
“H-how?!”   
  
“That is also a long story. Were you and Gendry getting on the train as well? We can catch up there!” Sansa beamed.  
  
“Uh yeah, we were getting on the train.” Arya just didn't want to mention how. Gendry and she didn't exactly have any money to buy tickets; they figured they’d just hop on  
  
“The brat is lying. I can smell it,” Sandor hissed. She shoot him a deadly look, while Sansa stood there looking perplexed.  
  
“We don't actually have tickets. We were just gonna hop onboard,” Gendry admitted. His gaze jumped to Arya and he mouthed “sorry.” _Stupid..._  
  
“Arya, here take this.” Arya watched as Sansa reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a few bills. Upon accepting the currency, Arya noticed how much it actually was as her mouth hung open. Sansa didn't even bat an eyelash.   
  
“Sansa, where did you get this kind of money?!”  
  
“Yet another long story, we shall talk on the train. Go buy some tickets-- but hurry!”  
  
Pulling Gendry along, she made a mad dash to the ticket window.  
  
\----------------------------------  
In the end she and Gendry were able to purchase tickets for one of the nicer sleeping cars. The trip would be more than a day, and that's if they were to go straight through. No doubt there would be many stops along the way.  
  
Between them both, they had one bag with their belongings. She carefully placed the bag on the bunk, careful of needle— her pistol— and went to find the compartment Sansa and Sandor were sharing. Gendry trailed behind her.  
  
Finding her sister’s lodging, she was about to slide open the door when Gendry spun her around.  
  
“Are you sure you want to just barge in there? You don't know what they’re doing,” he grinned.  
  
“Tell me you’re not insinuating that Sansa could be in there willingly touching that man!”  
  
“I'm not insinuating anything. I'm stating something that is pretty much fact, _milady._ And I'm suggesting you knock, unless you want an eyeful of your sister in a compromising position.” Arya punched his arm and let out an indigent huff.  
  
“Sansa, you settled?” Arya ventured, knocking on the cherry wood of the sliding pane.  
  
There was a rustle of fabric and quick heavy footsteps.  
  
"Just a moment Arya! I was just uhh— lying down!” Came Sansa’s high pitched voice.  
  
Gendry gave her a smug look whispering, “Yeah lying down...”  
  
As Arya was about to punch the smug bullhead again the door slid open. Sansa stood there, her hair loose and her scarlet lips swollen.  
  
“Come in,” she smiled at them.  
  
Arya noticed that Sandor was leaning back on the bunk, polishing a pistol. _Good cover._  
  
She and Gendry made to sit down on the seating beneath the picture window.  
  
“Arya, I was thinking— if you’re not comfortable with your sleeping arrangement, we can share a cabin...”  
  
She felt Gendry tense up beside her.  
  
“No I'm okay. I've been sleeping next to Gendry for awhile now. Besides you talk in your sleep.” Sansa shook her head and Arya gave her a grin.  
  
“Next to or with?” Arya heard Sandor mutter.  
  
“I heard that you as-”  
  
“Arya! Tell me how you escaped the ranch!” Sansa hollered, cutting off her charming words for the huge man.  
  
Arya sunk down further into the plush chartreuse cushion, trying to think of the simplest explanation. She could feel all eyes on her, waiting for the story of her great escape. But if she were being honest, it wasn't much of a tale.  
  
“Well... I left the Baratheon Ranch the day father was murdered. I had already befriended one of the stable boys and he gave me one the fastest horses. I sheared my hair off and was able to slip through the gates easily in the midst of all the chaos.” Arya turned her head to garner Sansa’s reaction; she didn't look the least bit surprised.  
  
“Then after that, I kind of just wandered the desert for a few days. Until the Brotherhood captured me. One of father’s men from Winterfell was with them, Harwin, he recognized me instantly. That's when Thoros decided it’d be a grand idea to ransom me off.”  
  
“How did you come across Gendry in all this?”   
  
“I can answer that one,” quipped Gendry. “I left the Crossroads Inn to actually look for you. Jeyne was really worried. I went to the neighboring town, to the store you went to and the shop owner said you had been by hours earlier. When I was riding back to the Inn, figuring maybe you had returned, I found your mare. I was trying to cajole her, when I heard riders coming up fast behind me. Yada yada yada. It was the Brotherhood, who have a serious Robin Hood complex I might add, and they decided they needed the mare. For Arya. Well, I wasn't going to let a valuable horse go that easily. They had another idea. And they kind of just knocked me out. When I awoke I was asked to be their new smith. But it was more like being told.” When Gendry was done, he sat back and put his hands behind his head.  
  
“What the fuck was the Brotherhood doing so far west? When I had my run in with them they were east of Eagle Pass!” Sandor grunted, putting his pistol aside.  
  
“Dondarrion said they were looking for your brother. Doran Martell put a hefty bounty on his head.”  
  
“Fuck me! You mean we could have earned money off him?! He finally would have been good for something.”  
  
“I had enough to worry about; I thought you were going to die!” Sansa cried, taking a seat next to Sandor on the bunk. Arya saw Sansa’s hand seek his and his returning her grasp.  
  
“Oh no! Jeyne must be even more beside herself now!”   
  
“Actually, when we finally broke away from the Brotherhood I made sure to stop at the Crossroads first to tell her I was heading north with Arya.” Arya was thankful Gendry had left out the part of _how_ she convinced him to take her north.  
  
“I'll make sure to write her as soon as I can, explaining everything. I can't believe we’ll finally be back at Winterfell. It doesn't feel real.”  
  
Arya was reminded of another surreal experience, the dream she had in which Bran had visited her. Telling her it was time to come home, even giving her the name of the train station and day she would have to board. She didn’t tell Gendry why it had to be that day; he’d think her crazy— she herself thought it crazy! But she heeded Bran’s words regardless.  
  
“So, _Sansa,_ what happened? Where did you go? Without a horse and any of your things,” Gendry asked in wonderment, like Sansa had pulled off the greatest magic trick.  
  
Sansa sat up straighter and chanced a glance at Sandor. Seemingly conflicted in how she should go about answering Gendry’s totally justified question.  
  
“I took her.”  
  
“YOU DID WHAT YOU FUCKING BASTARD?!” Arya shouted, jumping up from her spot. She suddenly wished she hadn't left needle in their compartment.  
  
Sansa stood up as well, holding her back.   
  
“Arya!” Arya heard Sansa shriek, Arya must have looked homicidal in her pursuit of ringing that lousy shit for brain’s neck.  
  
“ARYA STOP. Sandor, it is hardly time for your brevity! Okay yes, he took me bu-”  
  
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Arya screamed anew. Sandor’s face showed no emotion. To him, Arya was like one of those tiny yappy dogs.  
  
Gendry thought it was a good time to intercede, picking up Arya from behind.  
  
“Thank you Gendry,” Sansa breathed. Arya felt Gendry give a nod.   
  
“If you would have let me finish, yes he took me. The Lannisters put a bounty on me. He was merely doing what he has always done.”  
  
“They put a bounty on your head? Why would they do that?” Sansa now had Arya’s full attention.  
  
“The day I was taken from the ranch, Tyrion helped me; some bandits had raided and started a fire. The Lannisters apparently believed I orchestrated the whole thing, and were offering $25,000 for my return. Alive though.”  
  
“Mother of God, $25,000?!” Gendry whistled, Arya elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
“So if they were offering that kind of green, why are you here and not there? Not that I'm not absolutely grateful!”  
  
Finally Sandor decided it would be an excellent time to throw in his input.  
  
“She convinced me not to.” _Wow, this man should write for the New York Times._  
  
“Was that before or after you fucked her?” Arya growled.  
  
“ARYA, y-you have no idea what you’re talking about,” a stricken Sansa stammered. “Sandor saved me. Yes I tried to run away, but some overzealous salesman had pulled me into an alleyway. If Sandor didn't come when he did, that man would ha-have taken me.” Sansa said; silent tears rolled down her face. Sandor turned to her and put a large arm around her, pulling her close to his chest.   
  
“It's okay little bird, I came. I told you, no one will hurt you anymore.” Sansa looked up and gave him a watery smile.  
  
Arya felt like she was intruding on something. She may not like the man, but she could see her sister trusted him— maybe even loved him.   
  
Gendry finally released her, and they both sat back down. A cold silence settled in the train car. A certain warmth was radiating from the two huddled together on the bunk. They were both entranced in each other’s eyes. Arya looked on sickly. _Barf._  
  
Arya coughed, hoping to break their secret meeting. Sansa lifted her face back to her younger sister.  
  
“Yes, Sandor saved me. He promised me he’d bring me back home. I then asked him to teach me how to shoot.”  
  
“You know how to shoot?! The perfect lady Sansa?!"   
  
“She's a damn amazing shot too. I lost my first bet ever to her. AND she took Gregor unaware. Fucking good I was, revolver chamber empty-- bullet embedded in my thigh.”   
  
“You saved me, I saved you. We’re even.” Sansa laughed. “We were collecting bounties to finance our way north.”   
  
“You became a bounty hunter? Sansa, I can't believe this. I mean I know we are definitely blood now!” Arya jested.  
  
“Arya, I'm sorry.” Sansa sadly peeped.  
  
“What are you sorry for?”  
  
“For not being the greatest sister. Always fighting with you, yelling at you. Not understanding you.”  
  
“You’re being stupid. I'm guilty of the same thing.”   
  
They both got up to engage in another bone crushing embrace.   
  
“I love you Arya.”  
  
“I love you too Sans.” The confined room erupted with the sound of a raucous rumble from Sansa’s stomach.  
  
“I think that’s our cue to find some food. Let’s go see what they’ve got to eat on this fancy schmancy train.” Arya smirked, as they all decided to head to the dining train.  
  
Arya thought on how soon they'd be back in Winterfell’s enormous dining hall among her family and smiled inwardly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. I’m really really REALLY sorry. But the last half of 2013 was kind of busy for me. First I was in the hospital for 2 weeks which sucked, missed the beginning of my classes which put me behind awhile and then truthfully I just lost my muse for a bit and my confidence to post. But I said I’d never abandon my stories and I meant that. So yeah, so sorry!

Sandor

They all enjoyed a hearty meal in the dining car, slices of carved turkey smothered in a rich brown gravy, stewed carrots with a cranberry glaze and hot dinner rolls with sweet butter. The little bitch and her hulking companion shoveled the food in their mouths as if they had been stranded in the desert for weeks and this was their first meal-- which could very well have been the case. 

Sandor sat in relative silence, mostly listening to the newly reunited sisters reminisce on their times in Winterfell. He'd occasionally glance at Sansa, to catch a glimpse of her face in the light of unrestrained happiness, to see the corners of her eyes crinkle in mirth. Their easy going laughter and chatter was something Sandor wasn't accustomed to. No one ever felt the capability or even the desire to loosen up around him; usually his presence set people into high alert. Sansa had been the first person in a long while to disregard his image and his bite- though not at first. _Well I was attempting to bring her back to those thrice damned Lannisters._

He was of course glad to see Sansa reunited with her little bitch of a sister, but he couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive as well. Would this change things between them? _Way to be a selfish cunt._

Now that they were finally heading towards her home, Sandor could feel the doubt creeping further and further into his system-- until it was all that occupied his mind. As his thoughts fought to flood his practical senses; Sandor missed the social cue that the meal was over and they were waiting on him to stand and exit the car. Even as Sansa closed the door to their sleeping quarters Sandor found his thoughts lingering towards the inevitable. 

As Sandor looked out the window to masquerade his state of mind, he took in the rapidly changing scenery. The orange hue of the dry and cracked miles of desert terrain had quickly transitioned to the lush evergreens indigenous to the woodlands of northern Arizona in mere hours. Sandor imagined there wouldn't be much difference between the woodlands of Arizona and the woodlands of Colorado. _I hope there will be less fucking idiots trying to pass themselves off as cowboys. I swear every moron with a pair of boots and hat thinks they're the fucking Cisco Kid..._

“Hey little bird, what do you Northmen do for fun?” Sandor asked, pulling his attention away from the window. When he turned around his mouth was as hung open as the jail cell the time the deputy in Eagle’s Pass got drunk and left the keys in the lock.

Before him Sansa stood only in her small clothes, which was an amazing feat seeing as Sandor had heard nothing even with his dog like sense of hearing.

“That's funny. I was just about to give you a demonstration,” she said with a smirk taking a step forward.

She moved before him and sat atop his hips, his scorching hot flesh relieved by the cool porcelain of her perfect exterior. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase 'save a horse ride a cowboy' little bird?”

“Really Sandor, that was atrocious and you may have just killed it...” Sansa said as she halted her movements and rolled her eyes, “Also, are you suggesting that you are in fact a cowboy?”

“Fuck no! But if you really wanted, I _could_ wear a hat while we fucked so you could genuinely say you ’saved a horse.’” Sandor proclaimed with an ear to ear grin.

Sansa burst out laughing, the kind of laughter she had used with her sister earlier. As her laughter subsided Sansa leaned down until their chests were pressed together and her cheek rested in the crook of his neck. 

“Sandor, I'm so incandescently happy,” Sansa hummed in contentment. Her fingers playing with the frayed thread of his tunic.

“I’m glad little bird. Out of everyone in this whole shitty world, you deserve happiness.”

Sansa lifted her head to meet his stare.

“We both deserve happiness,” Sansa said cupping his face, “I think you’ll love Winterfell, you were made for the North.” Sandor’s pulse quickened at her mention of the future, he felt adrenaline pump through his veins as if preparing for the pain to the answer of his next question.

“So do you wish me to stay with you?” He asked with a thick tongue, trying his hardest not to show vulnerability.

“You still feel the need to ask? That’s what ’I love you’ means you buffoon,” she deadpanned. “Besides, I could be with child. And I highly doubt the idea of a virgin conception would be nearly as believable a second time around,” Sansa added with a grin.

Sandor shot up at her jest, bringing her to a sitting position too. Fucking hell! The thought of getting her pregnant hadn't even entered his mind, and now it could be a very likely possibility.

“Sandor, hello? I didn't break you did I? It was only a jest, though I guess I really could be pregnant... Now it sounds like I'm trying to rope you in. Please say something, or at least look at me.” Sansa squeaked as she gently caressed his scarred cheek.

“Little bird how I am gonna return you to your family if you’re knocked up? Knocked up, unmarried and collecting bounties with a scarred and brutish drunkard! Who just so happens to be the father of the bastard in your belly... Just great. I'm sure your family will just fucking adore me!"

Sansa looked up at him horrified whether it is from his harsh words or if she found some semblance of truth in his rant. He really fucked up this time.

“Is that really how you see it? You make it sound like everything has been a giant mistake. Like you’ve forced yourself on me and you're nothing more than a disgusting rapist! My family may be shocked at first, I won't lie to you because you don't appreciate it-- but they’ll soon see my happiness. That's all that should matter to them. I shouldn't have said anything about a baby, I was honestly making a joke-- apparently a very unfunny one.”

“You nearly fucking killed me girl! Here feel my heart; it's still trying to break out of my rib cage!” He took her hand and placed it in the center of his chest. Sandor could practically feel his pulse in his teeth, still throbbing in time to his heart beat.

“We’re always arguing, do you realize that? You can be so infuriating. What am I going to do about that?” Sansa looped her arms around his neck, bringing her mouth to his throat leaving light open mouthed kisses on his heated skin.

As Sansa continued to lavish his throat with her unwavering affection, she began to grind her hips downwards in a circular pattern. All Sandor could do was groan and grab hold of her hips to guide her movements. His cock had been half hard since she straddled his lap, but now he reached the painfully hard territory-- having this goddess sucking his pulse point and swishing her bottom about was too much.

Sandor hadn't even realized he was working her out of her dress until it was already past her milky shoulders. Her flawless fucking shoulders. Her clavicles better than any marble Greek statue of archaic goddesses or the beauties in those epics. That beautiful dip in her throat could lure any man to his death more efficiently than any siren song. _She’s the only thing that could make me fucking wax poetic._

Alternatively, Sansa had her hands under his tunic attempting to pull it off. He removed his hands from her waist to assist her in her quest to divest him of his clothing. Sansa’s lithe hands felt so insanely pleasing as she raked her nails up his broad chest. Scratching and caressing his form. As she brought her hands back down she looped her fingers under the waist of his trousers, slowly bringing those down too. The weight of her shifted from his lap down to his thighs, and he felt the cool air hit his cock. 

Sansa reached for the strings of her underclothes and deftly removed them. Leaving her in all her wanton glory on top of him. She gathered her waves of crimson hair and placed it over one shoulder. Her breasts were perfectly rounded, tipped in a rosy pink, and fit nicely in his hands.

She crawled back towards his cock, hesitantly– with an air of uncertainness that Sandor found endearing. She had been full of piss and vinegar not moments ago but the unsure virgin had returned it seemed. 

She dipped down towards him, and kissed him chastely. A brief meeting of her soft full lips to his. He threw one arm around her waist and the other he raveled in her hair, bringing her in to deepen the kiss. Sansa responded urgently, accepting his tongue with renewed vigor. Their noses brushed almost harshly as both their passions went unmatched– their teeth clashed and their moans and pants quickly overpowered the rolling sound of the moving train.

Sandor broke away from her mouth, where he could taste the lingering tartness of the cranberries from dinner. He moved to nuzzle her chest and take a smooth breast in his mouth while his hand fondled and stroked her other. The prettiest sounds were falling from her lips, short gasps and long strings of sighs. Sandor removed the hand still entangled in her locks and cupped her bottom, feeling her wetness seeping there as well. He went to start to stroke the lips of her cunt when he felt Sansa grasp his hand and moved it to grab his cock.

The air in the room hung heady as she fixed her gaze on him, imploring him to give her what she was demanding. With her hand still on his which was holding his swollen cock, she directed him in her cunt slowly– agonizingly slow. He groaned at the tight and hot sensation, he felt her body relax and a devious smile upturned her mouth. Sandor was laying flat against the floor– though he couldn’t remember getting there. The bunks really weren't adequate for this type of activity– they were barely adequate for sleeping. He was going to let her do it her way.

“Touch me,” Sansa ordered nodding towards her breasts. Sandor followed her words, groping both breasts in his hands. At that she resumed the swivel of her hips from earlier. Sandor pulled up both his legs and placed his feet firmly against the floor, causing his cock to slip deeper inside her. Sansa moaned anew astride his lap.

Her grinding motions were driving him crazy. He wanted to flip them so he'd be on top but she looked so beautiful right now and Sandor was against breaking her spell. Sandor went to stroke that spot he found made her lose control last time, wanting to please her as much as she pleased him. He circled that little spot of nerves that no doubt made the tension rise within her, ready to snap. 

To stifle her sobs he captured her lips with his again, swallowing her loud cries. He growled as he wondered if the other passengers could hear them, he wasn't sure how sound proof their cabin was.

Sansa’s grinding had reached full blown bouncing, as he could tell she was nearing her peak. A fine sheen of sweat covered both of them; Sansa glimmered under the low lighting. He was so close too, elated at the perfect creature had he on him. They were both engulfed in each other, loving their expressions as they both reached that sought after peak. That explosion that left all other senses temporary dulled. One high pitched cry symbolized that Sansa was coming, she threw back her head which tipped Sandor over the edge as he let go as well. He held his breath as he came inside her. She was his and he was hers. 

Sansa drooped down against his chest, both of them still trying to catch their breath. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and kissed his throat, while he tightly embraced her. He was aware she could hear the thumping of his heart over any other sound, just as he could only hear the delicate humming Sansa had started. That tune about sweethearts and love. He couldn't goad the girl for being such a romantic, not right now at least. Not when she’d throw it right back at him, call him a hypocrite. Which he was. Because for once he allowed himself those “happy ending” thoughts. But only because of Sansa fucking Stark.


End file.
